


Monopolizing Carter

by TheKerl



Category: Stargate - Fandom, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Blue Jell-O, Episode: s04e10 Beneath the Surface, F/M, Fishing Is A Euphemism, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Jam finally go FISHING, Kirkism, Monopoly (Board Game), P3R-118, Season 4 divergence, Slow Burn, UST becomes RST, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:14:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 48,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27387754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKerl/pseuds/TheKerl
Summary: Their free time on that planet had been spent seeking each other out for companionship and conversation. They had joked and gossiped about unimportant snippets of their day, not caring what other people would say about how closely they sat together during mealtimes. Nobody gave them a second glance when she flushed at something he said, or when his gaze lingered after her smile. No chain of command. No angry fathers. It was the simplicity of being with her that made it so hard to come back to a planet where they couldn't just be anymore.Picks up after the events of Season 4's "Beneath the Surface," exploring what would happen if their friends decided enough was enough.
Relationships: Samantha "Sam" Carter/Jack O'Neill
Comments: 27
Kudos: 68





	1. Normalcy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been percolating in my brain for some time, because it is just too painful to sit down and watch Season 4 straight through without anyone to vent to. For those of you who have supported this story since I first posted it on fanfiction . net, I want to offer my sincerest thanks. I was a different writer when I began and your encouragement saw me through to the finish line. For those of you discovering this story for the first time, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Picks up just after the events of 4.10 "Beneath the Surface." Not Beta'd, so any grammatical mistakes are my own.
> 
> TheKerl

* * *

" _You know… there are things about this place that I like."_

"… _Really?"_

_Nod._

" _Would it mean anything if I told you I remember something else?"_

" _What?"_

" _Feelings."_

" _Feelings."_

" _I remember feeling… feelings."_

" _For me?"_

"… _No, for Tor. I don't remember much, but I do remember that."_

" _So…"_

" _So… I'm just sayin'."_

" _Well then, I feel better."_

_Her head resting against him, his arm wrapped around her – nothing else mattered. Did it?_

The words pounded against his skull. His one chance to tell Sam how he felt about her and he'd blown it on something so… so… _stupid_. He banged his head against his desk. Hard.

"Ouch."

What was he supposed to do? It wasn't his MO to dwell, but now he found himself in a position where that was all he could think about. He was willing to tell her—waiting to tell her—wanting to tell her. Alright, no more musicals with T. Again he banged his head. Again, and again, and again…

Sam's sudden appearance in the doorway went by unnoticed. "Sorry, sir, but I—"

His head shot up. "Carter?" he choked out, embarrassed to have been caught abusing himself. "Uhh… What's up?"

"..." She kept her eyes trained on her shoes.

"What?"

Oh no, it was _that_ look. "Are you alright, sir?"

He shrugged, avoiding eye contact by playing with the pen cup on his deck. "Who, me? I'm great. Never better. You?" The cup tilted awkwardly and toppled from the desk, spilling pens everywhere. Jack sat back and watched them scatter across the floor.

"Fine, sir," she replied dryly, emphasizing his title.

"Great!" He clapped his hands together for lack of anything else to do with them. "Now that we've got that straightened out, whatcha want?"

She shifted nervously, fully aware that she'd seen something he hadn't meant for anyone to see. Jack O'Neill never let his guard down. "Well, sir, I was wondering if you've finished writing up your mission report." Jack pulled a Teal'c and questioned her with his eyebrows. "I… I wanted—that is, I was wondering if you…" She stopped and stared at his feet. Odd, because Carter was one of the most direct people he knew. He had no idea what she was trying to say, but her studiously blank expression clued him in to the situation. It was the same expression he forced upon himself.

He shook his head. "No, I didn't." In fact, he had just finished his report before he'd begun banging his head on his much abused desk. Probably the shortest report he'd written in his time at the SGC, it simply read 'SCREW YOU.' There was no way Hammond wasn't going to call him out on that one, but that was all he felt needed to be said at the moment. Especially in regards to _that_.

Sam raised her eyes to meet his with a sad smile. "Thank you, sir." Those three little words were really getting on his nerves. The way she said the first two was usually nice, a bit melancholy, but friendly enough to invite him to cross the short distance between them and hug her problems away. Hug invitations were good in Jack’s book. Then came along that pesky little ' _sir_ '. He hated the way she said it. When had it come to this? Her thanks had so quickly become 'I really want to thank you properly but frat regs prevent me from doing so, _sir_ '. How was making him bash his face into hard surfaces really thanking him?

"Don't mention it." He slumped back down, this time banging his head into the keyboard. It wasn't like he had anything important that needed saving on the screen. The effort it would take him to retype 'SCREW YOU' would only be less time spent causing brain damage. At least in theory.

Sam ducked out into the hall, closing the door behind her as quickly as possible. What had he meant by that? Was that a 'Please don't mention to anyone I'm doing something nice,’ or more of a 'You know you can't tell anyone about what happened on that planet or we're both screwed' request? She hated the fact she was even taking the time to scrutinize those three little words. Even more, she hated that there was something between them he was forced to ask her not to mention. Without thinking, she rested her forehead against the wall… then for good measure she smacked it against the cold brick. "Ow."

Footsteps alerted her to Daniel hurrying through the hallway. Hopefully he hadn't seen her do that. If he had, he pretended not to notice. "Hey Sam. Jack in there?" he asked with raised brows. Sam nodded slowly, fully aware of the implications. Jack avoided his office on a good day, and on a bad day he avoided the entire floor. His actually being in there was generally a cause for concern amongst base personnel. "Umm… Is everything OK?"

That snapped her back into auto-Carter mode. "Yeah, he… he's finishing up his mission report from P3R-118."

" _Oh._ Wait—did something happen that I didn't—"

"Huh? Oh, no! I mean, it's just… Well, you saw what he was like when we got back. I we’re probably all still processing."She tried to blame her own lack of sleep on her altered sleep schedule as part of the engineering corps on the planet, but deep down she knew it was more than that. "Anyway, I need to go finish my report, so I’ll see you later?" She pointed off down the hallway, edging away from him.

"Right. I, uh, General Hammond sent me to get Jack and I didn't know if it was safe to go in or not."

The sudden opening of said Jack’s door caused the two of them to jump. "You know, if you want to talk about me behind my back you could at least try using your inside voices, kiddies." He glared at Daniel, but Sam saw that he wasn't really upset with their friend. At least not seriously. "Carter? Don't you have a report to finish?"

She bit her lip as she saw the red indentation the keys had left across his forehead. "Yes, sir. On my way right now. Uh, bye Daniel." She hurried away, leaving the two men to size each other up.

"Hey, Jack. General Hammond wants—"

"—to see me in his office. I heard. Did he say what it was about?"

Daniel shook his head. "No, just that you should come sooner rather than later. Do _you_ know what he wants?" Jack slammed the door behind him and stormed off. Daniel watched him march down the hall. He toyed with telling him that he had an angry red mark on his forehead, but decided it was safer not to say anything. Something was up, and bugging Jack about it wouldn't get him anywhere. Maybe Janet would know?

* * *

Jack drug his feet into General Hammond's office. He kept his gaze down, failing to salute or even acknowledge the general's presence until he was slumped over in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Hammond's response was one of amusement and mild concern, his eyes conveying a silent question. Jack snapped. "What?"

Hammond was more than accustomed to rude and insubordinate remarks from his moody 2IC, but Jack's tone told him there was a serious issue needing addressed. When Jack was in this sort of mood, Hammond knew that he had a short fuse to work with before the man went off. "Colonel, why don't you go ahead and tell me what's troubling you."

"Hmm? There's nothing wrong."

"You’ll please forgive me if I don't believe you."

"Come again?"

"Jack, you haven't been yourself since you got back from P3R-118 and you sure as hell know it. Now, what happened down there that I haven't already heard about?"

Jack fixed him with a steely gaze, informing Hammond right off that he wasn't going to get anything out of him. "With all due respect, _sir_ , I was just finishing up my report on '118 when Daniel told me you wanted to talk. You're welcome to it when I'm done. _Sir_."

"Oh, _this_ report?" He handed Jack a printed email, sent a few minutes ago, which read 'SCREW YOU ,ln;jm/.' "I assume that the rest of your report is on its way."

 _Leave it to me_ , Jack thought. How had he managed to send the report with his forehead? "Uhhh… No, sir. That's about it so far."

"Colonel O'Neill, you and your team are trying my patience. You either get over whatever seems to be bothering you on your own, or I'll make a call to Dr. MacKenzie and you can tell him _all_ about it. Ah! I'm not done yet." Jack's mouth snapped shut. Hammond sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. How did he always end up as the bad guy? He needed a raise. And a vacation. Maybe both. "Listen, maybe you need to take some time off. Hell, your entire team needs a break; this morning in the mess I saw Carter crying over a bowl of oatmeal. She doesn't even like oatmeal. I want you all to take the week off. And I mean _off_. Get Carter and Jackson off of this base by the end of the day. I don't want to see you people until next Wednesday. Actually, make it the Wednesday after that. Finish your reports and go home. Dismissed, Colonel."

"Sir, I—"

" _Dismissed_ , Colonel."

Jack hadn't known what to expect going in, but he hadn't thought that a dressing-down was in order. He frowned, wondering if he'd really allowed his chronic bad mood to leak out into the open like that. And Carter, crying in public? Over oatmeal? What the hell was that? For a split second he wondered if she was having as much trouble coping with their return to reality as he was. Then he remembered that he was the team's foremost headcase and that Carter must have been overly hormonal about something entirely different. His head was already hurting like crazy, so he settled for kicking the next doorframe he passed through. Yeah, the pain in his big toe would help take his mind off of all of the near constant heartburn that had absolutely nothing to do with the food in the mess. For a little while, anyway.

Walter's voice echoed over the call system. "Dr. Fraiser, please report to General Hammond's office." _Oh great_ , Jack thought to himself as he headed back to his office. _I've finally given George a heart attack._

* * *

"Come in," Hammond called as he heard a hesitant knock at the door. Janet poked her head in, did a quick survey of the room, and frowned as she realized that no one appeared injured. She finally entered, wanting to know why she'd been pulled away from the infirmary for no visible reason. "Please, Dr. Fraiser, sit down."

He gestured towards the chairs in front of his desk, giving Janet the feeling she was in the principal's office for not telling the teacher who took the cookies from the cookie jar. "Sir?"

"I'll get right to the point, Doctor. I need to know if you have observed any unusual behavior in SG-1 lately." He knew the answer, of course, but there were certain formalities to see to first. He allowed himself a smile at the face she pulled. "I mean, anything more unusual than is typical from them."

She knew exactly what he was referring to. "Now that you mention it sir…" she hedged. How much could she tell him without getting anyone in trouble? Based upon past precedence, General Hammond was more likely to get angry over being kept in the dark than with her for withholding information. The age-old saying 'What the general doesn't know can't get anyone court-martialed' never really applied when it came to Hammond’s flagship team, because he couldn’t protect them from his superiors if he didn’t know what they could be charged with.

The doctor’s hesitation was all the confirmation he needed to press on. "It's alright, Doctor; this is strictly _off the record_ ," he said with emphasis. She nodded her understanding. "I just want to know why my best people look like they witnessed some sort of ritual puppy slaughter. Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter I can understand, but Daniel has been drinking cold coffee and Teal'c. well, he hasn't been acting himself either."

That piqued her interest. "Teal'c, sir?"

He nodded gravely. "During our debriefing earlier he started doodling. Teal'c never doodles during meetings. I can't say that I've known him to doodle period. He doesn't even take notes. Do you have any evidence to suspect the memory stamps have left some sort of residual effect?"

"No, sir, I don't think so. Physically they are all perfectly healthy. We've been questioning them to ensure that they regained everything that the false memories had suppressed. Aside from Daniel forgetting what happened to him for a few months during undergrad, everyone seems to be perfectly fine. _Medically_ there is nothing more I can do for them." She shook her head in frustration. "From what I've seen, I would say that Daniel and Teal'c have picked up their moods from the other two." Of course she had her suspicions, but all members of SG-1 had been repeating that same vague story to anyone who asked. She doubted that their mission reports would reveal any new information. _'Honestly, Janet, nothing happened. We didn't know who we were, then we started to remember bits and pieces of our real lives. We shut down the operation, and then we came back here. That's all.'_

She didn't entirely buy that story, in part because the more she pressed Sam the paler the woman had become. _Something_ more had happened and Janet would bet her medical degree it had to with that taboo subject everyone kept a tight lid on.

Hammond leaned forward in his desk chair, looking at Janet with a determined expression. She studied her lap rather than make eye contact. "Doctor, you know very well how I feel about certain rumors circulating through the base. These speculations and wild accusations are far-fetched at best, but we both know that there is almost always an element of truth involved. That being said, I want to do something about it and I'm going to need your assistance. Is there _anything_ you can tell me about why they're suddenly acting this way?"

"Ah, well sir, I should probably start with informing you that my report regarding the za'tarc testing was not, uh, entirely, well, accurate. Sir," Janet added hastily.

Hammond groaned. The last time he'd heard that, he ended up having to explain to the president that a certain archeologist had been living on an alien planet which had _not_ been destroyed by a nuclear bomb.

* * *

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Jack strode into Sam's lab and made a beeline for whatever doohickey was gutted on her workbench. He had no idea what it was, but in its current state he figured he couldn't really do any irreparable damage. Truthfully he didn't feel like playing with it. He didn't even want to be in her lab, but he was there because that's what he usually did. Invading her lab was normal. Not for other people maybe, but it was normal for him.

Apparently, he needed to do something normal.

This was also the way he made his presence known in order to give her an opportunity to throw him out. "Oooooh! What does _this_ do?" If she didn't throw him out, then it meant that she was not concentrating on her work, which meant that something was wrong.

Right on cue, Sam whipped around on her stool to see what had grabbed his attention. She temporarily forgot her fail-proof plan to ignore her CO whenever possible and bit back a smile. "Um, sir, that's an electric thermos. Daniel asked me to replace the heating element for him."

"Naaw…Really?" He kept his hands busy so his eyes didn't wander in her direction. "Oh, I guess that's why there's a big 'Coleman' label on it…" He ran a finger over the brand name and was rewarded by a stifled laugh from Sam.

"Uh-huh. What did you think it was?"

"You know those spiffy canisters they have in _Ghostbusters_?"

" _Ghostbusters_? Really?" Her teasing tone caught him off guard. She hadn't teased him back in so long he'd assumed she'd forgotten how. He saw her turn back to her computer and he allowed himself a smile. That was much better. Her teasing him in that tone let him know that she knew he was playing dumb for her benefit, which was normal for them.

Her ability to call him out like that while still allowing him to cheer her up had always made him more comfortable around her. He could say whatever he wanted, and she somehow knew what he _wasn't_ saying. Jack thought that was what made them so effective in the field. "So Carter, what—" he stopped short at the ringing of her phone.

"Hold that thought, sir. Major Carter," she answered. Jack continued to fiddle with Daniel's uber-thermos and pretend like he wasn't really listening in on her conversation. That was also normal. "Yes, sir, he just got here. No, sir." Pause. "No, I—Really? Did he say…oh, alright. Thank you for letting me know. I will, sir. You too, sir." Jack noticed that she said 'sir' differently when she was talking to Hammond, and he berated himself for enjoying that little tidbit. She hung up the phone, looking at it like someone had sprayed something unpleasant through the ear piece.

That wasn't normal. "Hammond?"

"Yeah. He said we're banned from the base for the next two weeks."

"He's serious about getting us out of here. Said to hand in our mission reports and then it's 'adios'."

Nod. "He said Dad's got some leave coming up soon, too, so he's gonna visit for a week or so."

"Oh? It'll be nice to see him when the planet isn't about to explode or something. He really does have poor timing."

"Yeah," she said dismissively.

That caught Jack's attention. Why should she be upset about her dad visiting? "Everything OK?"

She growled and ran her hands through her hair. "Why does everyone keep saying that? First Daniel, and then Janet…"

"Carter?"

"What, sir?"

"Chill?" He pulled a stool up to the bench and sat down, his head propped in his hands and looking for all the world like a little boy asking for a lollipop. "Now tell me _all_ about it. I might not understand, but I've seen what happens when you brainy people try and keep stuff bottled up. Most of the time it explodes."

"That only happened once, sir…" she reminded him with a blush. It hadn't been _her_ fault that Dr. Holtz hadn't been aware that there were additional precautions to take when storing volatile substances of unknown origin.

"Yes, and once is all it takes. Now, what's eatin' ya?"

Sam rolled her eyes and mimicked his pose on the opposite side of the bench. "Well, sir, my dad is… difficult."

"Tell me something I don't know," he mumbled.

"As if he wasn't bad enough before he knew what I did for a living, now he's got Selmak on his side. And let me tell you, that's one nosey little Tok'ra. I mean, it's _my_ life—they don't have any right to just barge in and tell me I'm doing it wrong. Who does he think he is? Half of the time I think he rides me harder because he doesn't see Mark as much."

Cough. "Well, he's your dad. I mean… Jacob's your dad. Not Selmak. That would just be ick!" The thought made him shiver. Yeah, that was another laugh from Sam. Good, he could keep this up.

"You're right, but he keeps treating me like I'm still a kid or something."

"He's worried about you because he's your dad. That's his job. I mean, c'mon Carter, it isn't like you're a corporate pencil pusher with a cozy desk job."

"It would be OK if that's all that he pestered me about, but that's not what’s been bothering him lately." She bit her lip, clearly having said something she hadn't meant to.

Jack took the bait. "Well if it isn't the not-so-safe job, what's he worried about?"

She met his eyes, telling him everything he needed to know with a single look. She knew it, and _he_ knew it, and apparently _Jacob_ knew something about it, but he could always hope he didn't.

' _This never has to leave the room, sir.'_

' _And we're both OK with that?'_

Sam shook her head, breaking away. "He just… He's proud of me and everything I do here, but…"

"But—?"

She looked up again, slightly more guarded but still more vulnerable than she was comfortable in his presence. "But he still wants me to try harder. To have a family. To have kids. To have a normal life, whatever that looks like," she added with a wave of her hand, effectively dismissing the issue. That was his cue to go.

But first. "You know, Carter," he said as he stood up slowly. "It's always seemed to me that 'normal' is just code for 'boring'."

"Maybe." She absently kicked at the legs of her stool. By the way she was still biting her lower lip and the way his blood was warming he knew it was time to go. This, too, was normal. Annoying as hell, but normal.

"And maybe he has a point. I mean, what do you do outside of the SGC? Figuratively, because going off-world doesn't count." Her shoulders drooped in defeat. "I'm just saying that he's your dad and he wants you to be happy. All you need to do is convince him that you are happiest dismembering alien devices into the wee hours of the morning." He tapped the counter three times before turning towards the door.

He was almost out of earshot when he heard her muttering to herself. "What makes me happiest. Yeah, right."

* * *

"Receiving Tok'ra IDC, sir."

"Open the iris." Walter scanned his palm and watched the iris spin open. A moment later, Jacob Carter materialized through the gate and made his way down the ramp like an angry bull. He was pissed. Freya trailed behind him, uncharacteristically devoid of crates or carrying cases. She seemed reluctant to stand too close to Jacob, but followed his lead all the same.

Hammond rushed down to greet them. He was eager to keep all shouting to a minimum and, more importantly, behind closed doors. Calmly, Jacob nodded towards Hammond as he approached. He extended a hand and the two men clasped forearms in a warm greeting.

"It is good to see you again, General Hammond. I am afraid that Jacob is rather aggravated at the moment, but he, too, is pleased to return to Earth. Perhaps, under different circumstances…"

Hammond sighed and shook his head. "I understand, Selmak. It's good to see you again, as well."

Freya stepped forward, casting anxious glances toward her companion. "I am afraid that the fault in this lies with Anise and myself. If we had not insisted on testing the armbands on SG-1, this would not have happened."

Hammond shook his head. _No, they were bound to blow sooner or later._ He took in the curious looks of the gate technicians and sighed. "Let's go to my office and I'll fill you in. I'm afraid to say that Jacob's not going to like this."

Selmak followed Hammond to his office before losing the good fight against Jacob's anger and relinquishing control of the body to the irate human. Freya sat down like an admonished child as Jacob began flailing his arms. "George—d'you mind telling me what the _hell_ this is all about? Anise just told us about the results of the za'tarc testing because _someone_ told Freya that it would be best if this sort of thing was kept under wraps. Care to shed some light on that? Or were you hoping that this would all just go away on its own? Christ, George, there're rules about this sort of thing, and—"

"Jacob, I know you're upset, but—"

"Upset? No, upset was me when I found out that Freya and Anise were keeping information from the rest of the council. I am _way_ beyond upset. Who do you think—?"

"Now hold on, do you think I'd really—?"

"So you're denying it? I never—"

"JACOB CARTER, SIT DOWN!" Jacob and Hammond shared a nervous look. Anise's eyes flashed. "You are overreacting. I have already explained to you why it was agreed to keep the more specific details of the testing between myself, Dr. Fraiser, Teal'c, Major Carter and Colonel O'Neill. If you are not going to hear what General Hammond has to say, I urge you to allow us to speak with Selmak." Jacob grumbled something beneath this breath. "Very well. I apologize for interrupting, General Hammond. You mentioned having new information on this subject."

"Yes, thank you." He stopped, not having thought out his argument well enough for his liking. When he'd dialed the Tok'ra, he'd been hoping that Jacob would be too busy to stop by for a few weeks, giving him the time he needed to sort through the mountain of paperwork his proposal would likely create. "Now, I've never come across another situation like this under my command, but I know that if it had been a _serious_ problem I'd have addressed it a long time ago. Frankly, neither one of them has ever—in regards to the other—acted in a manner unbefitting an officer of the United States Air Force. Until now, that is."

"I knew it. I just knew it," groaned Jacob. He covered his face, too ashamed to meet Hammond's eye. "Just tell me she isn't pregnant."

"Jacob, I promise you that it's not what you think."

"Oh really?"

"If anything, it is the complete opposite. I just found out myself what occurred during the testing. No one said anything to me, and I was led to believe that the testing had resulted in a sort of false positive." Anise huffed indignantly. "It wasn't until they returned from their last mission—P3R-118—that they began acting strangely. We know the team underwent a memory alteration procedure that is standard practice on that planet and have since regained their memories. The problem is that Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter have been acting like my grandkids when someone takes their teddy bear away from them. Jack has been perpetually cranky and Sam has been _crying_." The switch to first names was not lost on his audience.

"Crying? Sammy doesn't cry."

"That's what has me so concerned. Their recent behavior is starting to throw everyone around them out of balance. SG-1 in particular has been short-tempered and poorly focused."

Anise shifted uncomfortably. "Is there any evidence that some sort of physical relationship developed between Major Carter and Colonel O'Neill on their most recent mission?" She could have cared less, but Freya was interested. Jacob let out a strangled squeal.

"No, no, I don't think that's the case. I've spoken with Dr. Fraiser, and it is our opinion that we've simply been asking too much of them. SG-1 has always been a very tight-knit unit. They don't always follow the rules, but when they break them it's for a damn good reason. I’m afraid one regulation in particular is starting to tear them apart. We all know that Jack and Sam," it was the first time he'd addressed them together this way, and neither he nor Jacob could prevent themselves from wincing, "have feelings for each other, but I'm not sure any of us have considered quite how _deep_ those feelings go. They are trying so hard to ignore each other that they can't focus on anything else. Of course, neither one has mentioned anything to myself or Dr. Fraiser, but we also know that will be the last thing either would admit."

Jacob let out a frustrated growl. "So exactly what are we," he wagged a finger back and forth between Anise and himself, "supposed to do about it? What I'm hearing is that they are jeopardizing themselves and their team over this, and we both know the easiest way to resolve the issue. Why call us in?"

"I’ve asked you here because in this case I don’t believe the easiest solution is the correct one. The two—sorry, four—of you are in a position to offer them some assistance. I should already warn you that there have been various rumors in circulation concerning this very situation over the past years, and I've already had to assure the president that those were nothing more than speculation. Still, he intimated to me that he may not be opposed to finding a loophole of sorts. With the support of the Tok'ra, I am sure that we can work something out that will benefit everyone."

"Hold it right there, George." He stood up and began pacing. Anise remained erect in her chair, bracing herself for another Tauri outburst. "You mean to tell me that you asked us here to use our positions as ambassadors for the Tok'ra to help you garner support for a plot to gain permission for _my_ _daughter_ _to_ _date her CO_?" He was shouting and quite frankly didn't give a damn. "And you thought I would agree to help you? You give me one good reason why I shouldn't march back through that gate right now!"

Hammond fixed him with a steely glare. "Because she loves him." Jacob stood there, unsure of how to respond. Of course she loved _him_. Sam never did anything the easy way. If Jacob was honest with himself, she could certainly do a helluva lot worse than Jack O'Neill. Hell, she already hit the bottom of the lake with that last bottom-dweller. She was safe with Jack and, Selmak reminded him, they both owed him their lives.

Files entered his field of view and Jacob accepted them on reflex. "Here are copies of all of the reports from SG-1's past few missions, first among which is that little unauthorized trip to PX9-757. Dr. Fraser and I have added in our own observations, as well. Anise, why don't we go check out what the cooks have heated up in the commissary. Jacob, we'll leave you to your reading. Just consider the repercussions if you decide not to assist us here."


	2. How to Drain Emotions Without Really Trying

" _Mr. Fennyman, allow me to explain about the theatre business. The natural condition is one of insurmountable obstacles on the road to imminent disaster."_

" _So, what do we do?"_

" _Nothing. Strangely enough, it all turns out well."_

" _How?"_

" _I don't know. It's a mystery."_

Sam sniffed, taking a long sip of her hot chocolate. Coffee was a staple for work, or course, but it was not much of a comfort drink. The caffeine made it hard for her to stop thinking. Ouch. Still hot. She popped a few marshmallows in her mouth, the sugar dissolving on her tongue and soothing the heat. It was Friday. Fridays were to be spent barricaded in the lab running simulations and possibly getting around to repairing Daniel's thermos. As it was, she was banned from the base, forced to smuggle the thermos out the day before.

Last night she'd swept and dusted and scrubbed and put away things she didn't know she had. The sterile feel to her house made her feel more like she was in the base infirmary, but then she felt more at home there than in her own home. Sleep, as usual these days, was not forthcoming. Directly after breakfast she'd tackled Daniel's thermos, replacing the heating element to begin with. She was so bored she upgraded the CPU along with it to save battery power. Well, that had taken her a whole 2 hours.

Then she remembered that her dad was due to arrive in a day or so. That meant little-to-no privacy for her, no work to distract her from her dad's nagging, and no free time to think about some things that definitely needed thinking about.

On second thought, maybe it was a good thing her dad would be around to distract her.

The phone rang. She paused the movie before answering it. "Major Carter."

"Good afternoon, Major. General Hammond asked me to inform you that your father has arrived. He has some matters to take care of on base, but we'll be sending him your way early tomorrow morning."

"Thank you, Sergeant."

"Major." She stared down at the phone in her hand. She only had nineteen hours left before her dad showed up. She stuffed the phone into the sofa cushions and hit the play button on the remote. She needed to get back to her emotional purging time, and nothing accomplished that better than a few gallons of hot chocolate, a pound of marshmallows, and a Shakespearean tragedy. The first thing to do was find something to make her cry so that she could unload everything she’d been bottling up over the past few months. In her current emotional state, that was not difficult to do.

The day before, Colonel O'Neill had burst into her lab pretending like there was nothing different—nothing wrong—between them. After weeks of avoiding each other following that doosey of a mission and the issues raised during their time there, she'd begun to suspect that things were never going to go back to normal. Not that normal was an inherently good thing, but it was certainly manageable and preferable to whatever it was they had been doing recently.

What bothered Sam the most about the whole kerfuffle was that she _knew_ he'd been just as upset as her upon their return to Earth, and now he acted like he wanted to take back ever admitting his feelings for her and pretend she'd never reciprocated them. Was their non-relationship that easy for him to blow over? Was _she_ that easy to blow over? If they weren’t going to do anything about their feelings anyway, why was this bothering her so much?

She cried her eyes out over the end of the movie and was infuriated that she was doing so, all despite the fact that this was her goal in the first place. Still sniffling, she put in her standard 'screw-the-world' movie: _The Matrix_. Some days she felt like the universe was out to get her, and it was nice to watch someone else save it for a change. It was her emotions that needed sorting out, not her muscles.

By the time the second movie ended she was tired of sitting around on her butt and put on some idiotic Adam Sandler movie to re-clean the house to. She thought about just how often she'd been forced to have these movie marathons of hers and realized that they'd all been the result of one thing—Jack O'Neill screwing with her mind.

By the end of the third movie her house was spotless and she was emotionally drained. Time for a nap. Who knew when she'd first discovered this method of therapy, but she was certain that she hadn't perfected it until after she transferred to the SGC. By now this was her typical detox routine when she was on leave. It was the only way she could actually allow herself to relax on her down time. She pulled the ugly orange Afghan blanket off of the back of the big lounge chair and curled up in it, preparing herself for her rehearsed tirade.

 _Alright, Sam,_ she told herself. _You know how you feel about him and you suspect that he feels the same way about you. He has never once told you that he loves you, so stop assuming that he does. He said that he 'cares more than he should' and nothing more when he had the perfect opportunity to, so it's more than platonic feelings, or so you think. That's all it is. YOU THINK. And you think too much. There are only a few things that matter here: Colonel Jack O'Neill is the best commanding officer you've ever had; you love your job; you KNOW that the colonel would die before he ever intentionally hurt you unless he was forced to save the planet, because that happened one time; the Air Force says NO, so stop thinking about it. Most importantly, he is not going to do anything to overcome the situation unless you say something. If you say something, they will pull you from the team. If you keep acting like this, there may be an internal review and you or he or both of you will be pulled from the team. Just pretend like everything is normal until you can forget about him and this will all go away._

Heh, normal. Sam jerked the blanket over her head and screamed into the soft fabric of the chair. _I'm just being stupid. Why can't I let him go? We've never made any sort of promise to each other—I have every right to go out and find someone I can actually be with. He would want me to be happy. I want me to be happy. But why does it feel like I'm betraying him if I look at another man? Why is this so hard?_

The clock on the wall read 3:38 pm. Her eyes stung from all of the crying she'd been doing, which for some reason had not stopped. She never cried this much. _Maybe it's just PMS. It'll go away soon and then I'll be fine. Yeah, that's it_. She knew that her current state was the result of far more than an overload of hormones, but she'd been lying to herself for this long that another white lie wouldn’t kill her.

Buried in her orange cocoon, Sam cried herself to sleep, remembering the last time she'd been wrapped up in something orange and ugly and finding that she'd preferred P3R-118 a whole lot more. The planet had been cold, the air in the sleeping quarters stale and heavy with the stench of unwashed bodies living in close proximity to each other. Only a crazy person would miss that.

Once more she cursed the fact that she had still been loopy from her sedation when she'd undergone the za'tarc testing. No matter what he’d said, she’d still had a chance to clear the air as well. Maybe if she hadn’t demanded they forget the incident she would have eventually gotten a definite answer. The pining was difficult, but it was the uncertainty that was tearing her apart.

The following morning Sam had barely taken her first sip of coffee when she heard someone banging on her front door. She took a deep breath on her way to the foyer, her father's fist pounding harder and faster on the door. It sounded like he intended to beat his way inside. "I'm coming!"

Jacob's head cocked to the side when she cracked the door open. "Well it's about time."

"Impatient much? I don't think the neighbors are going to appreciate the early wake-up call, Dad."

He stepped inside and wrapped an arm around her shoulders in attempt at a hug. "Sorry. I wasn't sure if you'd be awake or not. It's good to see you, Sammy."

Sam wrapped her free arm around him to return the hug. "You too, Dad. Want something to drink?"

"Sure." He followed her to the kitchen, breathing in the calming scent of coffee in the morning. "You got any apple juice?"

Sam set her mug down and started digging through her refrigerator. "So, Selmak got you to trade apple juice for coffee? It's not really all that healthier…"

"I know, but it's more of a taste and buzz thing than a health concern." He flipped over the thing Sam tossed him and examined it. "A juice box? Really?"

She sat down opposite him at the counter island, clutching her mug like a live grenade. "Cassie likes them, though I think Daniel and Teal'c actually go through more than she does. It's hard to keep food around when we always do team night over here."

Jacob focused on stabbing the flimsy straw through the tiny hole. The end of the straw bent, making it much harder to pierce through the foil. "Do you guys have team nights often?"

"Not really. They started out as a way for Colonel O'Neill and Cassie to spend time together, but he always insisted that it was a team thing. We've got them planned once a month, but a lot of times we're off-world…" She trailed off, remembering the reason they'd missed the last few. Jacob noticed her preoccupation and his face gave him away. Sam knew he knew something was wrong. Most likely he'd talked to General Hammond. Awesome. "Anyway, it's usually just Janet and Cassie who make it over. Have any vacation plans?"

Jacob pretended like he didn't notice the abrupt change in topic. "Not really. I'd like to try and see Mark and the kids while I'm here, but aside from that, a good steak, and as much Ben & Jerry's as I can get, I'm all yours."

"You'd think that there would be more about Earth that you'd miss than food."

He shrugged, slurping from his juice box as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him. "I mean, the Tok'ra have nothing to compare to the NFL or St. Patrick’s Day, but you can only go without meat for so long. Selmak usually takes over during mealtime, but I can't help the protein cravings. Speaking of which, you got any peanut butter?"

That got a laugh out of her. "I don't know how you can stand them—those armbands that Anise and Freya tested on us had us prepared to attack a herd of cows." While her back was turned he took a moment to make a mental note of her red-rimmed eyes and the fact that she'd obviously slept in yesterday's clothes. He’d secretly been hoping that George had been exaggerating her mental state. Well, he had an objective for his leave, then. He needed to do some more recon for this hairbrained plan he’d been roped into.

"Yeah, I heard you and the boys got banned from the nice steak joint down the road." He needed something to keep his mind off of his most recent encounter with Anise. "Guess I either have to leave you at home or find another place to get a good sirloin."

"Technically it was all Daniel's fault, and O'Malley's isn't the only nice restaurant around here."

"No, but they _are_ the only restaurant that understands the fundamental difference between 'medium' and 'medium-rare'."

"Well I'd tell you to look around for a new place to eat, but I'm not sure how easy it will be to find something up to your standards by surfing the net. I need to go shower, and then we'll see about visiting the sibling. Remote's under the TV!" Sam called as she sprinted from the room.

Jacob drained the rest of his juice box and glared at it for its inability to hold more than two mouthfuls. He picked his way to the living room and settled himself on the sofa. Across the room, a lumpy afghan was haphazardly strewn across the lounge seat. Yup. He definitely need to have a talk with that young lady…

Twenty minutes later Sam walked back into the living room, lazily toweling off her damp hair. Jacob was reclined on the couch, staring at her lounge chair with an expression she couldn't read. "Uh, Dad?"

His head whipped around. "Huh?"

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Nothing. Hey, do you want to go visit Mark today?"

"Today?" She was having a hard time keeping up with him. "Sure, I guess. Why the rush?"

"No rush. I called while you were getting ready and he said tonight was the only night this week they were all going to be home at the same time. I'll drive," he said with a grin. She smiled back, knowing just how much he liked to drive her car when he was on Earth. You couldn't really get a car around the Tok'ra tunnel systems without doing serious damage to the paint job, not to mention running over a few people in the process.

"Alright, fine, but I'm in charge of the music. No offense to Selmak, of course."

Jacob frowned. "No, she actually shares your opinion on that one."

"Of course she does—she has good taste."

The drive to Mark's house was a long one, so Sam brought along a few science journals she'd been meaning to read. After the third page of miscalculated equations on theoretical arrays for plasma weapons, her mind began to wander. Teal'c and Daniel were off to Chulak for the next two weeks. She was spending at least one week with her father. What was Colonel O'Neill doing?He hadn't mentioned anything when he'd come to visit her in her lab. Was he fishing? Probably not—he always asked her to go fishing with him. On the other hand, he knew that her dad was coming to visit, so he would not have asked. Or would he? He asked her even when he knew she had work to do. What had changed?

Maybe he wasn't fishing. Maybe he was sitting around in his pajamas watching hockey. A t-shirt and pajama pants, or was he a boxer kind of guy? _Woah there Sam—no picturing him like that. What if he doesn't wear anything to bed? Hey! What did I say? No picturing him in any other way than fully clothed. Strike that. No picturing him at all. What if he did the same thing? Holy Hannah, Carter. SHUT UP!_

"Sam?"

"Wha? Oh, sorry. Did you say something?"

"Those new journals that interesting, huh?"

"No, not really."

"I asked if you wanted to stop and pick up some lunch." Her stomach answered for her. "I'll take that as a yes. There's an IHOP if we take the next exit."

"Intergalactic space travelers _love_ pancakes…"

"You know, I think that CO of yours is starting to be a bad influence on you." He switched lanes and slowed on the exit ramp.

She fidgeted in her seat. "What do you mean?"

Jacob laughed at how nervous his comment made her. She was a terrible liar. "The sarcasm, missy. What else would I be talking about?" She blushed and turned away, suddenly very interested in picking out the restaurant.

"IHOP's right up there," she pointed, knowing perfectly well that Jacob could see the giant sign.

Inside they waited for the waitress to return with their orders. Sam toyed with her place setting, thinking. "Now I know that you've always liked to take things apart and see how they work, but I'm pretty sure that a napkin wrapped around a fork and a knife is pretty low-tech even for you."

"Very funny." She dropped her silverware and waited a few seconds before picking up the desert menu that nobody ever actually ordered from.

"Alright, tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong."

"Right," he scoffed.

In a fit of rage she slammed the menu down on the table. "You want to have this discussion now? Fine. No, I am not seeing anyone. Yes, I do get out of the lab on the weekends. No, I did not enjoy having my mind screwed with. Yes, I am back to my old self."

"Sam." She looked up and immediately regretted it. The look he was giving her told her that no bluff in the world would get her through the following conversation unscathed. Knowing this, Sam still put on her best soldier face and boldly met his eyes. He sighed. "Sam, cut the crap. I know that something is bothering you. George seems to think that something serious happened on your last mission…"

Her eyes narrowed at him. “More serious than having false memories implanted in my mind in order to force me into compliant servitude in a work camp for weeks on end?”

“That’s what I’m asking. I read the report. I want to know if you left anything out.”

"Is that why you're here? To spy for General Hammond?"

"What? Of course not! Listen, you don't have to tell me what happened, but knowing how you are, you haven't talked with anyone else about it. And from what I've heard of your behavior this past week, that hasn't been working too well for you. Out with it."

Her hands went to her hair. She ducked so he couldn't see the tears threatening to spill over. _This isn't how it's supposed to go. What's wrong with me?_ "There's nothing to talk about, Dad. I'm fine." A hand tilted her head up. Frown met a tearful glare. "I'm _fine_ , Dad."

He kept her head tipped up so she would see his eyes when he spoke. "Sammy…you don't have to be brave all of the time. It's just me, and quite frankly I'm worried about you. I've never seen you this out of sorts."

Sam tried to rein in her emotions when the server returned with their food, only to discover that she was also carrying another table's food and that someone had ordered biscuits and gravy. At the sight of the gooey mess her tears came down in a torrent. The waitress, frightened that she was the cause of Sam's breakdown, scurried back to the kitchen as quickly as she could. Jacob looked around and tried to console Sam when he noticed that people were starting to stare. He hissed her name under his breath, unsure what to do himself. Sam hadn't needed him to comfort her like this since she was a little girl.

A few minutes passed before she was back in control. This was ridiculous. That slop wasn't even remotely appealing, and here she was wishing that she was eating it right now. Back on that planet. A slave. With _him_. What was she supposed to tell her dad? "I'm sorry…I don't know—I mean I… I just need some more time to digest it all. We were… there," she said vaguely, knowing that he would understand while any eavesdroppers would not, "for a really long time. It hasn't really sunk in that everything is back to normal."

"But Sam, this isn't the first time that this type of thing has happened to you guys…"

"Dad, our memories were completely suppressed – Teal'c got sick and we didn't really care because we didn't know who he was. They kept trying to separate us from each other and it barely crossed our minds that we should try to escape."

"You got your memories, back, though, so I don't understand what's got you all worked up."

"I don't want to talk about this right now. Your pancakes are getting cold." She shoveled a few pieces of French toast into her mouth, effectively ending the conversation for the time being.

* * *

Jack glared at his cell phone. He was needed at the base. Today. Hadn't Hammond told him in no uncertain terms that he and his team were to steer clear of the base for two weeks? Yes, he did. And he used his General voice to do it, too. So why had he been ordered there halfway through the exile?

And why did he need to stop by Carter's place first?

This couldn't be good. He raised an arm and sniffed to see if he needed to shower before he left. Nah. It's not like he'd done anything more than sit around and drink for the past week. Showering was overrated, anyway. Carter'd definitely smelled him worse. He hopped in his truck and made his way to her house.

He'd barely managed to park out front when none other than Jacob Carter strode out of the front door, waving a goodbye to his daughter. Jack froze, his hand still clenched around the door handle. _He's not coming… oh, hell, he's coming with me, isn't he?_ He ducked his head down to his shoulder and inhaled again. Nope, still smelled OK. That would have been his luck—stuck carpooling with Carter's dad when he stank of moderate BO and stale beer. As it turned out, he only stank of stale beer. He instantly regretted forgoing the shower. Jacob ignored him and hopped into the passenger seat.

Maybe he couldn't smell him. "Morning, Jake."

Maybe he _could_. "Morning, Jack."

Jack decided that closing his door was a good step. After that, he didn't know what to do. "So, where to? The base?" Jacob nodded. "Right. The base it is." Jacob nodded again, a sign Jack took to mean that he was not in a talkative mood. Well, that was just fine with him. Seemed like every time he tried to talk to the man he barely managed to pull his foot out of his mouth in time to prevent himself from being shot in a rather not-so-nice place. He leaned forward to switch the radio on, hoping it would ease some of the tension in the cab. Jacob threw a few glances his way, but Jack didn't feel like playing around. He just wanted to dump him off at the base, figure out why he was needed, and get in one more season of _The Simpsons_ before he had to return to duty.

He hummed along to the radio, pretending as if he hadn't a care in the world, not even paying attention to the lyrics until it was obvious by the look on his companion's face that the song was hitting a little too close to home. _"…Remember how I found you there alone in your electric chair?_ _I told you dirty jokes until you smiled. You were lonely for a man, I said 'take me as I am 'cause you might enjoy some madness for a while.' Now think of all the years you tried to find someone to satisfy you, I might be as crazy as you say – If i'm crazy then it's true that it's all because of you, and you wouldn't want me any other way!_ " Jack flipped off the radio and they rode in silence.

They were about ten minutes from the base when Jacob directed him to pull the truck over. "We've got a few things to discuss before we see George." Jack pulled off onto a restricted service ramp with no posted guard at the gate.

He kept his eyes trained ahead, inwardly fearing what was to come. Hammond called Jack himself, so the man knew that he was on his way. He also knew that Jacob was with him, so he was to blame if they found his body buried in this field. And Selmak liked him, right? Oh, fercryinoutloud, he probably just wanted to know why Sam's been acting so weird lately. Crap. This wasn’t going to be pretty.

"Jack."

"Jacob."

"I'm not planning on burying you here, if that's what you're wondering. You can let go of the steering wheel." Jack flexed his fingers, feeling the blood rush back into them. "Alright, I'll cut to the chase. Sam's been acting really out of it and she won't tell anyone what the problem is. From what George tells me I figure it's got something to do with you and that last mission. She's really got me worried, Jack. We're all worried. So we're gonna go to the base and you're gonna answer a few questions that George and I have."

"Nothing happened," Jack responded automatically. He got slapped upside the head. "Hey! What the hell was that for?"

"For lying and being an idiot. And George told me that if you do either of those things during our questioning that I have permission to shoot you. Now let's get going. I have few things to do when I get back to the Tok'ra and Selmak is _not_ going to be happy if this turns out to be a gigantic waste of time."

Needless to say, Jack kept his mouth shut for the awkward 10.34 minute ride back to the base and the 4.84 minute elevator trip down to Hammond's office. He knocked on the door and filed into the room behind Jacob, wondering when the room had become so small and confining.

"Jacob."

"George."

"Jack."

"Sir."

"I take it Jacob told you why you're here?"

As Jack sat down, he shot Jacob a nervous look. "Well, he told me that there's a very high chance of my being shot while I'm here, if that's what you mean." With that he turned around in his chair to get a good look at the security camera. The red light was off. _Shit_.

"This meeting is strictly off the record, of course. We just need you to be honest with us."

In Jack's experience, he knew 'off the record' meant 'we're going to do what we need to for the information we need.' That was most definitely NOT a good thing. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, coughing into a closed fist. "Umm… honest about what, sir?"

Jacob leaned against the wall beside Hammond's desk. "I just told him that if he wasn't on his best behavior from here on out I'd shoot him and donate his body to Anise for testing."

Hammond nodded, biting back a grin. "Very well." Jacob pulled a zat gun from out of nowhere and held it at the ready. He faced Jack, who found himself sitting up a lot straighter than he had been. "Now Jack," he began, drawing the man's attention away from the zat, "We have a few questions to ask you and not much time to do it in. Don't speak unless it's 'yes' or 'no'. Understand?"

They were just joking, right? They weren't actually going to shoot him… "Uh, yes sir?"

"Thank you." He pulled a sheet of paper from a file folder in front of him. "The president has requested that we start with these. Watch him carefully, Jacob."

"Of course."

Hammond cleared his throat and began. "Have you ever been under the influence of an alien technology?"

"Of course I—"

"'Yes' or 'no' or I shoot you, Jack" Jacob reminded him gleefully.

"Yes," he said through gritted teeth. With any luck _they_ were under alien influence and he would be able to shoot his way out soon.

"Thank you. While under the influence of alien technology, did you ever willingly and knowingly disobey a direct order from your commanding officer?" No answer. “Colonel O’Neill?”

"Yes."

"In those same instances, did you act in a manner unbefitting an officer of the United States Air Force?"

"…"

"Please answer the question."

"I suppose that depends whether we’re taking into account that I was _under the influence of an alien technology_ or not."

"Did you engage in physical relations that you would not have if you had not been influenced?"

"Well yeah, but I didn’t exactly—"

"YEAH?" Jacob leapt to attention, ready the zat the hell out of the confused colonel. "You heard him George. He admitted it! Why you sleazy son-of-a—"

"JACOB!"

The older man's head fell to his chest. When it rose again, Jacob's face was calm and devoid of emotion. Well, maybe he looked a little annoyed… "I apologize. Jacob would have shot him had I not intervened."

"Thank you again, Selmak. Now, Jack, I believe you were going to explain yourself?"

Jack looked back and forth between the two of them, desperately trying to figure out what was going on. "Not that I don't appreciate the red carpet treatment and all, but what's the big idea? I mean, it wasn't something that I was proud of, but I didn’t exactly have a say in the matter. Pretty sure I made that clear in my mission report.”

Hammond scowled and waved a folder through the air. "Colonel O'Neill, I can assure you that it was most certainly NOT included in your report." Jacob and Selmak seemed to be fighting over control of Jake's body and he looked like he was having a seizure.

Jack shook his head. "Of course it is—it's the whole reason I almost died. Let me see that." He leaned forward and snatched the folder from Hammond's hands, rifling through it until he found his own recount of the mission. "See? It's right here where… Hold up. This isn't the right report." He took a closer look. "This is from our last mission." Looking up, he found himself, yet again, on the wrong end of a joint glare. That's when it clicked. "Woah woah woah woah woah _woah_! You guys don't really think that I—that she would—that we—?"

"That you _what_ , Jack?" Oh no. Jacob was back.

Jack tossed the folder back to Hammond before he stood up and turned away. He was dangerously close to boiling over. " _I_ was talking about that time I got roofied by a cake and infected by those nanothingies, but it seems as though _you_ are under the impression that there’s been a more recent incident. Something on ‘118? That what this is all about?” He spun around to gauge their reaction. Neither of the men answered him, which he took as a blatant affirmative. "That's what I thought. Great." His twitching hands scrubbed angrily at his face before shooting into the air. "Can I leave now? Or do you two have more 'questions' for me? You know what—let me just save you the trouble. Aside from that time when we all turned into cavevmen, nothing—I repeat, NOTHING—unprofessional has ever happened between myself and Major Carter." He grabbed his jacket and turned to leave.

"Colonel, please sit down."

"We know about the za'tarc testing, Jack."

He leaned heavily against the door, defeated. His arms shook as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. He was determined not to admit to anything. He could care less about what they thought about him, but he wasn't about to accidentally implicate Sam behind her back. "And?"

"And we think we've found a way to resolve the issue."

Jack banged his head against the door. It was too much. Too much coming from both of them. Of course it was Hammond’s job to follow up on suspicions of infractions, and of course he would be suspicious of the way they’d been acting recently. Adding in the cover-up of the za’tarc interviews, Jack had to admit this didn’t reflect well on the team. He didn’t regret lying in that instance because they hadn’t done anything wrong. “Sir, I swear there isn’t an issue here. Nothing needs resolved because there’s nothing wrong.”

Hammond called for him to stop. "Jack, I know that your first instinct in these situations is to shut down and shut everyone out, but this would be a whole lot easier if you would just give us a chance to explain what we—."

That was it. Jack banged his fist against the door and spun on the spot to address the two older men. When he started shouting he seriously doubted anyone on the other side of the door would miss his words, but he didn’t care at this point. "Explain _what_ , exactly? Why my character—and Carter's for that matter—are being shoved under a microscope? What more do you want from me? I do my job to the best of my ability and, yeah, I'll admit that there may have been a line or two that I shouldn't have crossed along the way, but I like to think my record speaks for itself. Since the planet hasn’t been invaded yet I think most people would say I’m pretty good at it. If you’ve got a problem with me or my work ethic, I’m happy to have a formal discussion but you two have no reason to doubt Carter like this. We’ll addend those reports if that will make you happy, but nothing. Is. Going. On. _Sirs_ ," he mocked, saluting smartly before storming out of the door.

He didn't see the people who leapt out of his way as he marched down the halls. He didn't feel the button his finger jabbed in the elevator. He almost didn't hear the punk kid manning surface security who told him that the general requested he wait for General Carter. Apparently, Jake wasn't quite done with him yet. Just peachy. He shoved past the kid and headed for the parking lot. The kid nearly got himself knocked on his ass when he darted back in front of Jack again.

Now, Jack considered himself a pretty easy-going kind of guy. He was sarcastic to people who deserved it, but he was so practiced that his comments typically went over their heads anyway. Especially Daniel's. And any time he'd been faced with the type of horrifyingly degrading meeting he'd just experienced he'd allowed himself to become a little angrier and more direct. However, spending nearly every waking moment of the past four years with Teal'c and all of his Teal'cness, Jack liked to imagine that his rigid military poker face had improved some.

Well, the poker face and the death glare, that is.

That is how the extremely unlucky, dog-like young guard found himself on the wrong end of a modified Jaffa I-will-not-hesitate-to-kill-you type death glare. The poor guy backed away slowly, his hands raised in the air for good measure. "Sir, General Hammond said that General Carter had something to give you before he leaves."

 _Most likely delivered via zat gun_ , he thought with a twisted smile. "Fine, but I'm waiting in my truck." He refused to stand around waiting for the man who for all intents and purposes seemed to think that Jack was taking advantage of his daughter and that she either lacked the ability or self-control to put a stop to the sneaking around. Waiting for Jacob Carter in his truck was a generous compromise, he thought.

What was he going to give him? Could they hand him a dishonorable discharge for making Carter cry? He’d done absolutely nothing they were accusing him of, so it’s not like they could justify a transfer. Could they? That’s historically what “resolve the situation” meant in the armed forces. Then again, if this was strictly a personnel issue there was no reason for Jacob to be involved in the discussion. He let his mind picture all of the ways he'd like to beat the guy up, but his imagination didn't get too far as he remembered something very important.

 _Carter_.

She wouldn't be too pleased if he pounded the shit out of her dad. She'd probably come after him herself. That brought up another dilemma: should he mention any of this to her? While Jack still wasn’t sure what exactly was going on, he also didn’t want her to be blindsided by, well, whatever was going on. _Yeah, I'll just drive right over to her place, have some coffee and then just casually say, 'Hey, Carter, did you know that your dad and our boss think we've been doing the nasty each time we go off-world? I know, funny, right? I think one of us is probably going to be transferred, if not buried in a field somewhere.' Not a problem at all._

Focus. He needed to focus. The meeting had been off the record, which meant he was just being warned to back off. If there was actually a problem, Carter would have been questioned first. Under the present circumstances it would be totally inappropriate to be the one to bring it to her attention. According to the general and her father she was struggling with something. Something which she had hinted to him but still withheld details, details which he shouldn’t be sitting there guessing at.

He waited until Jacob was pounding on the hood of his truck before he rolled the window down. Jake strolled around and rested his hands in the opening, filling Jack with the intense urge to roll the window back up and see what would happen. He resisted when his eyes fell on the bulky manila envelope tucked under the older man’s left arm. It was stuffed full with…something…and more seriously it was marked [CLASSIFIED].

Jack's fingers tightened on the steering wheel and he fixed Jacob with a murderous eye. He really did like Carter's dad. He was stand-up guy. He was just pissing him off.

Jacob's head bowed in acknowledgement, which was saying something. "Sam's got this orange blanket she keeps in the living room for decoration. Personally, I think it's butt-ugly and about as comfortable as astroturf. Sam hates it, but Mark's wife made it for her so she keeps it out in the open. Not that they visit much, but the point is that it's always there. When I got to her place the other day it was obvious that she spent the night in the chair." Carter falling asleep in a chair wasn't particularly surprising, considering she generally works until she drops and can sleep anywhere. Hazard of the job. "I thought it was just a fluke thing, but I know for a fact that she hasn't slept in her bed once since I've been here. Yesterday, I found her curled up on the floor in the basement with that damn orange blanket. She's been quiet and moody and I don't know what's wrong with her." He ran a hand over his face in agitation.

Jack white-knuckled the steering wheel. He was looking for signs that weren't there. Carter curling up in a frumpy orange blanket on the coldest floor in the darkest room of her house was simply a coincidence… right? This didn’t necessarily have anything to do with him, even if everyone seemed convinced.

Jacob looked up and took in how tense Jack was. "I'm sorry, you're right. I shouldn't be taking out my frustration on you, but I don't know what else to do. She's always been so strong, and I want to do what I can to help my little girl. I want to make sure she’s taken care of." He raised the envelope and presented it to Jack. “And… if that means giving you this, then I'll be damned if I don't do it." Jack didn't know what to say, but that saying about gift horses was coming to mind. He reluctantly stretched out his hand to accept it, but Jacob pulled back at the last second. "I know what you're like, Jack, and that's why I want you to give me your word that you will only open this when Sam is with you. Got that?"

Jack snatched the package from him and tossed it onto the passenger seat. "Got it."


	3. The Point of No Return

Jack plopped onto his couch as soon as he got back home, the envelope clenched in his fist and still unopened. To say he was curious would be an understatement, but the shock from the morning overrode everything else. First, he'd been threatened by Carter's dad, then he'd been questioned at zatpoint by Carter's dad, and then he'd been handed a mysterious envelope by Carter's dad. _I wish he would just make up his mind and decide if he wants to kill me or not,_ Jack thought.

His eyes fell on the fireplace across the room and he briefly contemplated destroying the evidence. Then again, it seemed as though Hammond had gone through a lot of trouble to convince Jacob to deliver whatever it was to him. The least he could do was take a peek inside before he burned whatever it was. They wanted Carter there for the reveal, so it was most likely not a bomb.

What was he supposed to do? Clearly the generals believed that the contents of the package were the solution to Carter's crying problem, but what could possibly be in that envelope that would help her? Perhaps the bigger question was why they gave it _Jack_ of all people to deal with.

When did it get to be so complicated? In the beginning his feelings were easier to ignore because Carter had so adamantly insisted on being treated like one of the guys. He decided that any initial attraction he'd felt had resulted from her having a similar haircut to his ex-wife. That lame excuse lasted about a week, only to be fully demolished when she'd tried to claim him during the "touched" incident. She’d fought through his bullshit walls and earned trust and respect, a feat not many had managed to do. After that the old frat regs had been the fall back… until that freak Anise had forced him to admit that his feelings ran much deeper than simple fraternizing. Still, they'd agreed to forget the fact (or in his case try to ignore) that they'd said anything. It was difficult for him to tame down the flirting, but he thought he'd been putting forth a rather Herculean effort on that front. The '118 mission had pretty much thrown all of that hard work out of the proverbial window.

It wasn't that anything colossal had happened between them on the planet. Between the hard labor and clandestine meetings with Daniel there wasn't much free time, and "dating" wasn't exactly condoned by the higher ups. He had admitted his feelings in a circular way, again, and while that was a little embarrassing considering that they had agreed to never talk about it again, he couldn't feel guilty because he hadn't remembered that agreement ever taking place. The heart of their current predicament was a simple one: nobody was at fault, nobody was to blame, and everyone was confused about how to move forward.

Their precious free time on that planet had been spent seeking each other out for companionship and conversation. They had joked and gossiped about unimportant snippets of their day, not caring what other people might say about how closely they sat together during mealtimes. Nobody gave them a second glance when she flushed at something he said, or when his gaze lingered after her smile. No chain of command. No angry fathers. It was the simplicity of _being_ with her that made it so hard to come back to a planet where they couldn't just _be_ anymore. 

And now he had an envelope. A mysterious, magical envelope that would somehow make all of their cares and worries disappear. Jack pulled at his hair. "It's not gonna be that easy, and you know it."

He would never admit to anyone that he knew Carter, on some level, was attracted to him. She clearly trusted him with her life, and they got along well enough that he counted them friends. Family, even, because that’s what SG-1 had become. None of that meant that she understood how he felt for her. To him, she was everything that made the job worth doing. He would happily put up with energy blasts, alien roofies, and increasingly creaky knees if it meant that the planet that created such a spectacular woman was safe. Caring, loving—those words fell short of describing how utterly devoted he was to her wellbeing. According to her father she felt the same way, and it seemed that everyone else was in agreement on the subject. Jack was not quite convinced they were on the same page.

Their relationship didn't make any sense to him. At all. He was closer to her father in age—a thought that made him cringe—and she was arguably the smartest person on the planet. Carter had everything going for her at the moment, and Jack… well, he felt like he had begun an entire new life when he joined SG1. What did she see in him that would make her willing to take on all of the baggage from his old one? _Oh yeah, that's right. She only knows about a few carry-on items bumping around. She doesn't know about everything that got checked before the gate._ He groaned at the unintentional pun.

Jack didn't want to burden her with his mess. Regardless of his own feelings, she deserved a man who would put her first, someone smart to keep up with her FTL brain and funny enough to remind her not to take everything so seriously. The last thing she needed was a banged-up flyboy with PTSD and enough cynicism to poop any party. Everybody knew Carter was going places, and Jack wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he was the weight holding her back. He’d support her as a CO and a friend if she needed it, and otherwise keep his distance.

Having decided upon his first course of action, he stuffed the envelope into the cushions of the recliner – he didn't like sitting there anyway, so hopefully he would soon forget about it – and went to the kitchen for a beer. He would clear out the fridge, finish watching _The Simpsons_ , and unless absolutely necessary never tell Carter about the mystery envelope.

A week passed and Jack was lounging on the couch, ignoring a televised hockey game, glaring at the recliner. He jumped as his phone rang, startled out of the dangerous path his thoughts had taken. His mind was still racing and he answered the phone automatically, forgetting to check the caller ID. "Hello?" he said in a voice that he hoped didn't sound quite so high on the other end. He coughed a few times, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

"… Colonel?"

"Carter! Is that you?" Way to sound like a complete idiot, there, Jack.

"Yes sir."

_Funny you should call_ , he thought. _I was just thinking about you. And me. And a steamy bath… No! Bad Jack!_ "Um, what's up?" His heart was pounding, and he knew that it was utterly ridiculous for him but it seemed that his inner pubescent hornball had emerged and decided to set up residence somewhere between his eyeballs and his brain, so that every time he blinked his mind was filled with images of Sam.

"Well, I was just…" She coughed. "Sorry, um, I guess I was calling for a ride tomorrow. Dad is getting a little rusty behind the wheel, if you know what I mean."

"Hence my taking him to the base… What did he do to your car?"

"I'd rather not get into it."

"Ooh, that bad, huh?"

"Yeah. Thanks for offering to drive him back, by the way. I know he can be abrasive at times…"

"Jacob? Abrasive? You must have him confused with another Tok’ra you’re related to." _Besides, it's not like I was given a choice in the matter_.

"Sir?"

Crap, he was thinking out loud again, wasn’t he? "I was just saying that it gave us a chance to catch up. Do some of that good ol' manly bonding kinda thing, ya know?"

"What did he do this time?"

"I don't –"

" _Sir._ "

"Nothing unusual..."

"Don't lie—you aren't good at it."

He frowned. What about when he'd quit the program to join Maybourne's secret task force? "I thought I was."

She ignored him. "God, why can't he just run off to the Tok'ra and mind his own damn business? I knew I should have just –"

"Carter."

"Sorry, sir."

Now what was he supposed to say? He leaned back into his couch, hoping it would just suck him in. "It wasn't - he wanted to know why you were upset, so he asked me what happened on that last mission. He's just worried about you."

There was a long pause, during which Jack once again contemplated destroying the contents of the envelope Jacob had given him. It wouldn't take long to get a good fire going in the fireplace. When Sam finally spoke up, the soft tone of her voice startled him. "Did you tell him?"

_Tell him_ WHAT, _exactly?_ That Jack had crossed another line he hadn’t known he was crossing? Or that he had, once again, toyed with the idea of resigning just to see what would happen. Would Sam stop him? Would Teal'c or Daniel be granted visitation rights? Would Jacob hate him a little less? Would George let him? Would Apophis come back again and destroy the planet?

"There wasn't anything to tell." Jack sighed, wiping a hand over his face for the umpteenth time that day. The dark thoughts he tried to keep locked in the depths of his mind came bubbling to the surface. Sam wouldn't want anything to do with him if he quit the program. Teal'c and Daniel would forget about him. Outside of the SGC he was nobody. He tried to beat the thoughts back the way he always did, a sardonic smile instinctively stretching across his face. "Besides, I don't really think your dad wanted to hear all of the dirty details."

"Sir…?"

"You know… about Danny's newest girlfriend. I swear, he's gotta be the geekiest case of Kirkism I've ever heard of." Muffled laughter spilled from the phone, shifting his smile to a genuine one. He loved the sound of her laughter, and it was only too easy to picture her eyes crinkling as she smiled that thousand megawatt smile. "What number was that for him, anyways? He's gotta be nearing double-digits soon."

More laughter. "I'm sorry? _'Kirkism'_?"

"Yeah, you know—when the sexy alien throws herself at a guy and all he has to do is hold out his arms because she is head-over-heels in love for no other reason than that he is _Kirk_."

He heard her snort. "This coming from _you_ , of all people."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, please."

"No no no, I think you've got the wrong idea here. I'm talking about consensual Kirkism. We show up and _BAM_ , someone's in love with Daniel."

"But not you?"

"No. It doesn't count when Kirk does not want the woman. Stop laughing! I was roofied with cake! Why do people keep forgetting that?"

From the sounds coming through the speaker, he could tell she was having trouble breathing by this point. “I was there, sir. You were at least a little bit on board. Besides, you weren't kidnapped and traded as chattel."

"No… But if that ever happened to Kirk, it would be alright because he's _Kirk_."

"I thought you didn't enjoy any of the Star Trek/Wars stuff."

"A-a-ah! I said I wasn't into science-fiction, but I never said anything about not liking William Shatner. He was classy."

"Please tell me you're joking."

"All I'm saying is that if a race of hot alien women threatened to destroy Earth, our best bet would be to send Capt. Kirk and his countless number of unclassified space STDs after them. Not that I'm saying that Daniel has space STDs or anything…"

"Umm, I hate to state the obvious, but…"

"Well, spit it out."

" _You_ are the only one of us to contract an unknown virus after… Kirking. Sir. One that _could_ potentially destroy an alien race with no understanding of nanotechnology."

_Says the woman that infected me with a caveman virus after jumping me in a locker room_ , came the retort. No, he couldn't bring that up, even if she was the first to infect him. "I… Well, I… Crap, I guess you’ve got a point there."

"Goodbye, sir."

"See ya tomorrow morning, Carter."

Jack was smiling as he hung up the phone. Joking around with Carter never failed to boost his mood, even if it was at his own expense. However, as soon as he realized that he was indeed grinning like one of those stupid clichéd cats he decided to face the matter at hand. On the phone she'd sounded like her old self again. He couldn’t mention the mystery envelope and drag her back down. If she could pull herself together, so could he.

He just needed to avoid bringing up intergalactic STDs in future conversations. He could do that.

* * *

Sam checked her watch for the fourth time, confirming that only forty-nine seconds had passed since she'd last checked. _Calm down, Sam. He'll be here to pick you up any minute now. And by 'pick you up' I mean drive you to work, where you could lose your job for looking at him the wrong way. Focus._ Forgetting that she wasn't supposed to care what he thought about her, Sam raced back to the bathroom to check her makeup again. She didn't like to wear anything more than a little eye shadow on a daily basis because, let's face it, everything typically ran off before she had a chance to wash it off.

Plus, smeared eyeliner was a telltale sign that she'd been up too late and made her CO tell her to go home.

After assuring herself that she didn't look like she'd gone through any extra effort that morning because said CO was picking her up, she heard a noise. It sounded like… Yes, someone outside was blaring their horn. She raced out the door, locked up, ran up to the truck, and then remembered that she probably shouldn't have been moving that fast to see him.

His brow raised when she opened the door and she couldn't help blushing at her behavior. "I didn't think you were one to come a'runnin'," he drawled.

"Sir?" she asked as she slid into the passenger seat.

"John Wayne… _The Quiet Man_...? It's a classic!"

"Sorry—can't say I've ever seen it."

"D'oh." He pulled away from the curb, doing his best to ignore the fact that she was most definitely NOT dressed in her BDUs. Or the fact that she was showing a bit of leg with that skirt. _Bad Jack. Bad Jack. Think of something gross._ He imagined Anise, dressed provocatively, which was easy because she always dressed like she was advertising. She was chasing after him and Daniel, eyes glowing and in her eerily deep voice trying to convince him that a foursome wouldn't be as weird when there were really only three bodies involved.

Sam wondered if her running out to meet him was really as funny as Jack seemed to think it was. She couldn't stand the thought of him laughing at her for something so juvenile. "Sir?"

"Sorry, just thinking of something nasty."

"Nasty."

"Yeah, nasty."

"Do I even want to ask?"

"That depends—how do you feel about Anise?"

"Well, off the record," she paused as Jack chuckled. "Off the record, I wouldn't mind never seeing her again. I'm sure she's a brilliant scientist, but…"

"But she's a nut job. I agree."

"Yes, sir."

"If that's the way you feel, then I can let you in on the joke. Anise…or Freya, wait, I always get them confused."

"Anise is the symbiote."

"Right. Well, Freya came onto me because apparently where she comes from, humans are much more willing to spontaneously engage in… Kirkism. She called it something else though."

"Ummm…" OK, this was uncomfortable. Now she would have to murder her dad’s coworker. That wasn’t going to win her any points. "I'm not sure I follow, sir."

Jack shuddered. "I mean, the timing was terrible, not to mention the fact that she continues to remain oblivious to the highly well-known fact that I am not a fan of the Tok'ra, let alone _her_. Anyway, she told me that _Anise_ prefers Daniel, but that _Freya_ has the hots for me."

"Ah."

"Yeah, so ever since then I can't help picturing her chasing after the two of us yelling that threesomes are a sacred ritual on her planet. It's to the point that I have to avoid Daniel when I leave the base because he tells me to have a good night, and then the pictures come back and it's awful!" Pulling up to a stop light, Jack glanced over to the passenger seat to gauge Sam's reaction.

She was biting her lip, tears rolling down her cheeks. She turned to face him, nearly choking as she tried to speak. "You know I'm never going to be able to remove that image from my mind, right?" She lost control and burst into laughter. Jack was glad to see it, if only because she was expressing emotion without crying… crying about sad things anyways. Tears of laughter were acceptable in this case.

"As long as I'm not the only one. I'm not a fan of the 'suffer alone in silence' thing."

"It sucks," she coughed as she struggled to speak and gulp in air.

Oh no, he broke Carter. "Sorry?"

"Nothing. When did this happen, exactly?"

"Funny you should ask. She visited me while we were under guard during the za'tar'c mess. Luckily before the sedation."

"Huh. Odd timing… But I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if she thought you were going to explode or go brain-dead or something, I suppose it makes sense that she would make a move. I think." She snuck a peek out of the corner of her eye. "Or did you make the first move?"

Jack braked a little harder than he had to at the gate. "Oh, _hell_ no. Carter, I don't want you to joke about that ever again."

"Is that an order, sir?"

"No, just a very strong _suggestion_. Unless you enjoy the sight of grown men vomiting."

"Not particularly, Captain Kirk, sir."

"D'oh!"

* * *

Sam found herself unable to forget the conversation. She was able to get past—or so she told herself—the fact that Anise/Freya were allowed to come on to the colonel when she wasn't, but she couldn't help agreeing that the woman would most likely be driven to extremes in order to get what she wanted. She knew Jack could handle her, but she feared for Daniel if push ever came to shove.

Rather than imagining Anise mauling Daniel on the conference table, she did her best to pay attention to the conversation she was having with him while they waited for the others to show up for the briefing. "So, how's the family? I heard you and your dad made it out to visit Mark."

"They all seem to be doing well. The kids are so big now, I almost didn't recognize them. It's been a while since I've seen them, I guess. Dad and Mark managed to keep the fighting to a minimum, so we had a pretty nice time."

"Good trip, then?"

Sam smiled. "Very good." She watched Daniel bouncing his fingers on the table of the briefing room, knowing that he was just as eager as she was to get back to work. "I wonder where everyone went to."

He flipped through the mission report, not really paying attention. "Hmm?"

"I drove in with Colonel O'Neill, and then he wandered off."

Daniel looked up from the photo in his hand with a smirk. Sam realized her mistake immediately, but it was already too late. While Jack could tease and abuse Daniel to his face, Daniel was not above retaliation. And Sam was often the subject of said abuse. "You and Jack came in together? From where?"

"Daniel."

"Well, it's just that the way you said it, it almost sounded like you guys drove in _together_."

"Daniel."

"Well, did you?"

The eager expression on his face made her groan. "We did."

" _Really_?"

"Dad totaled my car so I needed a ride. The colonel picked me up this morning and we drove in together. _That's all_."

"Right, sure."

"What, Daniel?" He was doing that frowny squinty expression that was typical when he was about to vibrate out of his skin with a new theory. Normally Sam found that expression kind of adorable, but it was never adorable when the theory involved her.

"Oh nothing, I just find it pretty odd that your father—a decorated Air Force General and a Tok'ra, nonetheless—was able to wreck your car. Isn't he the one always critiquing Jack's flying?" Daniel went back to stirring his coffee, but Sam was all-too aware of this diversionary tactic. She braced herself for what she knew would follow. If it had been anyone but her father, she may have spent more time nursing the thought that her father had… but no, it had been an accident. "Do you think he's trying to tell you something?"

" _Daniel_."

"I don't think I want to know what the Spacemonkey did to deserve _'the tone,'_ " Jack said as he waltzed into the briefing room. Teal'c followed closely behind, and Daniel swore that the Jaffa was biting back a grin. “On the other hand, I'm always looking for more blackmail material. What's up?"

"Sam was just telling me that her dad wrecked her car. Wait—was it your dad or Selmak?"

"I'm actually not really sure who was driving…" She trailed off as she watched Daniel watch Jack stare down at the gate. His shoulders were tensed, the way they were when he was upset about something he couldn't—or wouldn't—talk about. Like her. The moment Jack's mood registered with Daniel, Sam slumped back into her chair.

Jack turned around and, catching the scrutiny on Daniel's face, prepared to say something that would undoubtedly urge Daniel to mind his own business. Before he managed to speak, however, General Hammond appeared with a tape player. "Alright people. Let's get this briefing started. I know that Major Carter was going to update you all on the progress of the X-301 project at Area 51, but we have a possible security breach. Early this morning at approximately o-four hundred hours the base switchboard received the following call." Hammond punched a button on the machine.

" _Hello. This message is for Colonel Jack O'Neill… and anyone else who's listening in. I know this call is being monitored but don't bother to set up a trace._ " Sam watched as Jack's amusement faded. It was difficult to believe that someone so consumed with conspiracy theories had accidentally stumbled across one of the biggest _actual_ cover-ups in the history of the Air Force. " _And now that I've got your attention, I want to meet tomorrow. Eleven AM at the New Clover Leaf restaurant in Billings. And Colonel… come alone._ "

Days later, after their new friend Martin visited his destroyed homeworld and signed a confidentiality agreement in exchange for his continued life on Earth, Jack couldn't help feeling satisfied with his team's progress: Teal'c had experienced a little more of Earth culture, Sam and Daniel had been held hostage and interrogated by aliens and come away relatively unscathed, and Jack had just been told that he and Teal'c would be piloting the new X-301 for her first space flight. What more could he possibly ask from the Air Force?

Jack offered to give Sam a ride home and they rode the elevators in silence, though Sam had an odd look on her face. She was nibbling her lip, doing nothing to hide her smirk. Once they cleared the final checkpoint, he called her out on it. "It's nothing, sir."

"Not buying it. Spill."

He waited for her to climb in the truck, his hand hovering over the ignition. She buckled herself in before fixing her bright blue eyes on his with a knowing smile. "Teal'c told me what happened while you guys were at that motel."

"You mean when he spent thirty dollars in change on the _Magic Fingers_? Who knew vibrating beds were such a universal novelty?"

She shook her head. "No, the other part."

"What other part?" Maybe—no, Teal'c wouldn't joke about that. He barely told normal jokes, let alone perverted ones.

"I've got three words for you." Oh no! Did he say something in his sleep? No, Teal'c wouldn't blab about that. Would he? "Klaatu barada nikto."

"Wha—oh, yeah, that. Look, it's not what you think."

"You like science-fiction," she said in a sing-song voice.

He jammed his key into the ignition, and his truck roared to life. "Hey now, I can enjoy _The Day The Earth Stood Still_ and not like sci-fi."

"It's OK to admit it, sir. Nobody will think any less of you."

"Nikto." Yeah, he was a goner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "All this to say - you can please some of the people some of the time... So, of course, by keeping Jack and Sam from acting on their feelings, we're trying to walk that fine line of pleasing none of the people none of the time (kidding)." – Joseph Mallozzi on "Divide and Conquer"
> 
> Thanks, Joseph, for ruining my sanity. Hope you enjoyed yourself.
> 
> I'm trying to keep this as canon as possible, but I don't want to go through entire episode rewrites because, if you're like me, you can practically recite the entire series on cue. Obviously some scenes will change as the story progresses, but don't count on me copy/pasting the screenplay and inserting random tags or changing a few lines of dialogue for my own purposes. Those stories are tedious to read and I refuse to write them.


	4. The Cake is a Lie

There wasn't a doubt in anyone's mind that Sam had expected to be one of the test pilots for the X-301 prototype. It was Sam that drafted the bigger portion of the modifications and designed the new interface, and it was Sam that had personally programmed all of the safety simulations. In the end, the higher-ups had felt that the combination of Jack's flight experience and Teal'c's knowledge of Goa'uld technology would be best put to use in the cockpit, leaving Sam to take care of things from the ground in case anything went wrong. Her response was akin to the one she'd had after being notified she’d been passed over for the Abydos team, but again, she really had no say in the matter.

Which was precisely how Jack found himself rocketing away from Earth at record speed in a craft with about seven more hours of oxygen, no heat, and an unconscious Jaffa. He had no idea where in the great deep black they were drifting, and even less of an idea how the two were going to make it home alive. If they didn't freeze to death, they were sure to asphyxiate.

And Jack was b-o-r-e-d.

It was too cold to move, but he had nothing to play with anyway. Even if he had his yo-yo, there was no room for it. The only thing activity left to him was thinking, and that was definitely not one of Jack's preferred pastimes. It wasn't that he was incapable of serious thought, he’d just rather engage in light-hearted banter to theoretical or theological discussion. On occasion, he even enjoyed serious debates, or rather he enjoyed confusing people with his hidden intellect. In other circumstances there would be escape plans to devise, watches to post, enemies to count, injuries to tend, fires to stoke or generally _something_ for him to do. Especially when facing death, sitting back and waiting for the end was the absolute last activity on his to-do list. He seemed to have a deeply introspective moment at least once a month with the way things had been going for him lately.

It was because of the job that Jack became so thoroughly acquainted with death. He'd had as many near-death encounters as your typical highway-traversing woodland creature. So far, death had only managed to claim him once, but he knew better than anyone that it was a very thin green line that differentiated between the monotonous beeping of the living and the wail of a flat-lined dead. He recognized that he was lucky to be awaiting death at the present moment, Shanghai'd in a retrofitted death glider engineered by the brightest minds on Earth: it meant that he hadn't succumbed to death on some earlier occasion.

It also meant that Jack had spent a great amount of his life contemplating death as a general idea and as a personal ineveitability. Jack wasn't an idiot. Someone would get the jump on him sooner or later. He didn't consider himself religious, but having been raised Catholic he also assumed that his soul was being shot straight to Netu or somewhere equally warm. All of his life he'd tried to do what he thought was “best” rather than what people thought was “good,” but he doubted that any higher beings would empathize with his logic. There had been plenty of opportunities over the years to come to terms with his life and had no qualms with the future – or lack thereof – of his soul.

Jack checked the screen before him, mentally calculating how much oxygen had been saved since Teal'c began Kel'no'reeming. "Not en-n-nough," he stuttered through a convulsive shiver. "But at least the v-view is g-g-good." Actually, being out in space made it more difficult to pick out the familiar constellations, and his mind began to betray him.

He knew who he was: Jack O'Neill, a general hard ass, a pain in the ass, and an even bigger pain the ass for hard-ass generals. His eyes drooped and a soft smirk graced his lips. _One might say ‘it’s what I do_.’ His work at the SGC had helped him accept himself, and more importantly had helped him to make something of his life. All of the good that he'd managed to accomplish in the past few years had eased his mind about his many past sins, though a few weighed heavily on his heart and would never leave him. Not even in death. He knew that his ex-wife still blamed him for Charlie's death despite whatever else she said on the subject. He wasn't sure he could ever forgive himself, but the acknowledgment of his guilt and the acceptance of his friends had somewhat eased his mind on that subject.

Jack O'Neill was far from complex; moderate introspection was all he required to sort out his affairs. There were a few experiences he felt like he was missing out on, but he didn’t like to dwell. It wasn’t like he was holding onto the illusion that he would ever meet Mary Steenburgen.

Which meant that his singular big, huge, super-dee-duper major life regret was the only thing he could think about at the moment. So much so that he thought he'd go crazy. His thoughts were stuck on an object that was Carter-only-knew how many miles away on Earth, secured safely under the seat cushion of his old recliner. Why, oh why, hadn't he opened that stupid envelope when he had the chance? Now he was going to die in space, alone, and he would never know what the hell Jacob gave him. What if the envelope had contained the means through which he and Carter could…

Nah, that wasn't very likely. _But it would have been nice_ , he allowed.

During the various 'I'm going to die’ scenarios Jack had encountered after joining the SGC, Sam had on a few occasions crossed his mind. Of course, the answer to the one important question where Carter was concerned was always yes, but he typically managed to turn his mind off there. Yes, he loved her. Yes, that thought scared him shitless. Yes, he planned to take that secret to his grave. It wasn't until the moments where staff weapons were pointed at his head or replicators were chirping on his back that the dangerous thoughts of _Sam_ managed to leak in. In those moments alone he allowed himself a brief stray thought. He wasn’t one to barter, never thought _if I get out of this, I'm gonna set things right with Sam_. Experience had taught him that some wayward miracle would prevent his untimely demise even when all hope was lost, and that if he began bartering he would somehow be held accountable for those errant wishes. He had always survived, always prevailed, and never made promises he couldn’t keep.

At the moment, Jack was putting his money on hypothermia winning this time. He jerked into action as the radio crackled, announcing that Carter and Daniel had left in hopes of finding an ally to help them retrieve Jack and Teal'c. Jack responded as best he could and settled in for the wait, silently praying that whoever was out there would speed their friends along.

Jack was by no means afraid of dying, but that didn’t mean he was ready to roll over and take it. He knew that he shouldn't entertain thoughts of Carter rescuing him and taking him home to a warm bed, but it was better than the alternative. If for some reason Carter and Daniel _did_ manage to find their ship before an angry system lord did, he and Teal'c would most likely be dead. Jack prided himself on being a realist, and realistically there was little chance of rescue. But hell, he had unfinished business to take care of and he didn't want to come back as a ghost. Ghosts sucked. And then they got sucked up by the Ghostbusters.

He checked the display one more time. A little over four hours of life support remained, meaning that he had the same amount of time to give his imagination free reign. Damn it, he wasn't dead yet.

* * *

Jack was enjoying dessert at O'Malley's with Sam when an earthquake struck. At least he thought it was an earthquake. Did Colorado get earthquakes? No one in the restaurant seemed concerned, so he went back to his cake. "Sir."

"Sam, I told you not to call me that."

"Dig it one. This is Carter."

"What the—Sam, stop the robot impersonations and just eat your cake. See? Yours is pink and mine is blue. I know you don't really like pink, but those were the only colors they had. Want a bite of mine?"

"Dammit, Colonel!"

OK, that was a bit of an overreaction. " _Language_ , Samantha. We don't want them to kick us out again."

"We haven't come all this way to take you home in a box."

"Trust me, Carter, this cake is delicious. I don't think I'll need a box."

"Cake up!" She was really angry, but he couldn't tell why. Their table had a great view of the night sky, the cake was chilled so the ice cream didn't melt, and they were the only ones strapped into their seats in case another earthquake hit. Life was damned near perfect from where he was sitting. Was she angry about the pink flavor?

The cake didn't taste like chocolate anymore, and Sam's BDUs had covered up her fancy dress. "On second thought, I don't think I want any more cake." There was another earthquake. O'Neill clutched at the harness keeping him in his seat.

"Colonel O'Neill?"

Jack looked around, but he couldn't find Sam. The table was gone, replaced by a control panel. What was a control panel doing at O'Malley's? Where was the bar? "Carter?" Where was she? He looked out of the window. "Carter?" When did she go outside? Why was there a Ha'tak in the parking lot?

"Yes sir!"

"Hi!" He couldn't tell who she was with, but maybe she was looking for their waiter. The cake was gone. And their table… and he thought there was something else missing…

"Hi, sir. We're going to find a way to get you back home safe and warm. What's your reserve oxygen status?" Air! That's what he needed. He looked around for the waiter, but all he saw was the back of Teal'c's flight helmet. Wait—when did Teal'c get there?

"Uh… I don't…" The waiter had to be around here somewhere. _Oh, fer cryin' out loud! There aren't waiters in space!_ If there wasn’t a waiter, then how was he supposed to order more cake? No, not cake. Sam—Carter, yeah, she wanted, uhh… "What?"

"What's your reserve oxygen status?"

He knew her words meant something, but he couldn’t quite make sense of them. She was supposed to be with him at O'Malley's on a steak and cake date, not in a Goa'uld ship. They were supposed to be in the same ship. Er, restaurant. Or maybe… Sam went to the bathroom, and the person pretending to be Carter on the other ship wasn't really her. Couldn't hurt to ask the lady, if she was going through all of the trouble of looking like Sam. "Carter, is that you?" His throat was scratchy: he needed more ice cream with his cake. And water.

For some reason, Carter wasn't happy to see him. "Sir, we're over here ready to bring you home. But you're going to have to trust me." She wanted to take him home! Did that mean her place, or his? _I haven't cleaned up in a while, so I hope it's her place_. He squinted at her through the glass and thought he saw Daniel with her. She left in the middle of their date to call Daniel? That couldn't be good. Maybe… Maybe it was because his table didn't have any air and Daniel did. That was it, he just needed to get more air and then they could finish their cake. That's what she'd said, right? "Do you trust me, sir?"

Did he? "Sure!" If she was willing to come back to his table and leave Daniel, then he'd do whatever she asked.

"Good!" Oh goody, Carter was happy and wanted to take him back to her place. "Is Teal'c conscious?"

Teal'c? Oh yeah. Jack wanted to say yes, but he had to play his cards right in order to get some air to keep Carter happy. _Better at least check_. "Teal'c?" No answer. Maybe Teal'c needed air, too. _Oh, that's right. Teal'c wanted to take a nap while I had dinner with Sam_. He found the pen the waiter had left with the check and he threw it at Teal'c, croaking his name a little louder. Teal'c jerked awake.

"O'Neill?"

Jack pointed out of the window to the other ship. "Look, it's Carter! She wants to talk to you." He heard Teal'c moving around in front of him, but he had trouble following their conversation because they were talking too fast. She was talking to Teal'c—why wasn't she talking to him? Something about blowing bubbles in the glider. Oh, right. He was in a death glider in space, not O’Malley’s. He continued to look around for his unfinished dessert, sure it couldn’t have just walked off on its own.

Now Teal'c was upset; someone must've stolen his cake, too. "We will die!"

"Negative! It'll be all right if it's only for a few seconds."

Another voice spoke up, and Jack thought it sounded familiar. "Teal'c, the only way we can bring you aboard is with the ring transporter. That means you have to be clear of the glider. You got it?" That voice sounded very familiar…

"I understand."

The voice spoke again. "Jacob, is that you?" Jacob was crashing his date with Sam? No, not a date. Why was Jacob there, then? It was obvious that Sam wanted Jack to come over to her ship, so maybe Jacob was there to chaperone. Maybe if Jack buttered him up, he'd let him borrow some air so that he and Sam could be alone on the smaller ship where there wasn't any room for a chaperone.

"Yes, it is, Jack. Now do what we tell you."

"Do you know your ship's bigger than ours?" Yeah, that would make him happy. Men always liked it when you complimented them on the size of their rides. Then again, the Tok'ra didn't really use rides because they rode around in human bodies.

"Colonel, we need you to concentrate." That was Sam again, and she didn't sound happy anymore.

That's right. She wanted him to blow bubbles. No, that wasn't it. "Blow the canopy." After that his body took over and he was able to follow Carter's instructions. Doing what she said had always worked before, even if he was the one who was supposed to issue orders. Once he found his cake, he’d remind her who was in charge.

The next thing he knew he was floating in space outside the hull of the restaura—er, ship. In the few seconds he and Teal'c waited for the rings, Jack wondered what would happen if he pushed away from Teal'c and floated on his own for a while. He was still freezing, but this zero-gravity thing was a lot more fun without the hindrance of a space suit and propulsion pack. Before he was able to process the inevitable consequences of flying solo, he landed with a heavy thud in the cargo bay of the Ha’tak.

It was a wonder what a fall and an adequate amount of oxygen could do for one's higher cognitive function. Jack looked around the ship, finally recognizing it for what it really was. Daniel hovered overhead, checking to make sure that he and Teal'c were alright. Carter was updating the ground crew back home. _We're alive. We made it_. Carter rushed into the cargo hold with Jacob, who Jack realized must have supplied the ship. "Hey, Jacob… Thanks for stopping by!"

And Jake was smiling at him! He knew the compliments would work. "What the hell, I was in the neighborhood! Ya need a lift home?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you." Jack was fine. Light-headed, but fine. Teal'c was doing better, and Daniel looked ready to tackle them in a hug. Sam was relieved, but she looked like she was about to cry.

Jacob was… _glowing_. What was he so happy about? Jack looked to Daniel for an explanation, but the archeologist shook his head. He tried to stand up, but a wave of dizziness brought him back to the floor. Daniel caught Jacob's eye—a motion Sam failed to notice because she was still staring at Jack—and the two hoisted Teal'c to his feet and took him to the bridge, leaving Sam and Jack alone. The silence and the waiting grew uncomfortable, but Jack couldn't look away. There were bags under her eyes. Her hair stuck up at angles, like she hadn't washed it recently. Her skin was paler than normal, deeply contrasted by her sweaty black t-shirt.

She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, cake or no cake. "Carter?"

She rubbed her eyes. "Sir?"

"Got any water? Feelin' a little parched. And dizzy."

"Oh! Yeah, uhh…" She dug through one of the packs piled in the corner and brought him a canteen. "Janet told me that you need to drink all of that, and then lie down and focus on getting as much air into your lungs as possible. And you have to try and stay awake."

"D'oh." After draining the canteen he tried getting to his feet, only to teeter dangerously close to falling into Sam. She steadied him and led him to recline against the hull. Jack, still jumbled by his oxygen-deprived hallucinations onboard the glider, pulled Sam down next to him and leaned into her. Her shoulder wasn't quite as comfy as his pillow back home, but he figured that was the only part of her body it was safe to lay his head on while her father was around. His mind was foggy but clear enough to know that some boundaries needed to be maintained.

Sam tensed, unsure what to do. If she let him lie down he would probably fall asleep, which could lead to a coma. If he remained sitting with her as he was, he would probably fall asleep. If she propped his head in her lap so that they could talk while he relaxed, Jacob would come in and shoot the poor man. Or would he? Her father had been upset about abandoning his mission for the Tok’ra and near apoplectic that Sam had been messing with “technology far beyond her species’ understanding.” As soon as she'd mentioned that it was _Jack_ that was in trouble, though, Jacob had immediately agreed to lend his assistance. "Don't fall asleep, sir."

He shivered, shaking her body along with his. "Not until I'm properly pricked and prodded in the infirmary, right? 'Sides," he yawned, "I'm not tired. Had a nice long nap while we waited for you guys to get here. Took you long enough, by the way."

"You're very welcome. Do you need a blanket?" He was still shivering, and Sam wondered if the risk of hypothermia was higher than they'd expected. "We brought a couple with us, just in case."

"Nah." He buried his face into her neck and curled into her side even more, seeking a position that was both warm and comfortable. As they were resting against the cool metal of a Goa'uld cargo ship, he didn't have much luck. Blankets blurred boundaries, as he’d quickly discovered, and his brain didn’t need any additional encouragement. "A blanket would only put me to sleep. Tell me a story to keep me awake."

She wasn’t blushing at way he was snuggling into her side. Absolutely not. Sam glanced down at him in question. "You're saying you won't fall asleep when I start talking?" Jack looked up at her with some really pathetic puppy dog eyes. His face was much too close—much closer than a platonic CO's should be—but Sam couldn't bring herself to pull away. She needed the reassurance that he was alive. She suspected he needed it too, so she leaned her head back and tried to think of something to talk about as he wrapped his arms more tightly around her waist. "Alright, let me think. Any requests?” The stress and caffeine crash were starting to take a toll on her body, though there was no way she was going to let herself doze off until they were within sight of medical personnel.

Jack was dangerously close to passing out with Sam in his arms. The few times he'd managed to doze off during their flight were restless. He decided it was a shame that the Goa'uld hadn't bothered adding in a master bedroom with a really nice bed for him to crawl into. Then again, snuggling here with Carter was pretty cozy. "Why don't you tell me a fishin' story."

_Fishing?_ "Sir, I haven't been fishing since I was little. I don't know if any of those trips were particularly exciting, either."

"Don't you like fishing?"

"Of course I like fishing."

Something in her tone caught his attention, forcing him to lean back in order to see her face. "Then why do you always say no when I ask you to come fishing at the cabin?"

She waited until she was sure that he was being serious. "I thought it was pretty obvious."

"Huh?"

"Oh, come on, Colonel. We both know that you had something other than _fishing_ on your mind when you invited me." Jack's mouth dropped open and Sam laughed. She knew she was pushing the boundaries here but was too worn out to care. "Anyway, you usually only ask me when you already know that I'm working on something and won't go. Or am I wrong about all of that?"

Unable to hold her gaze, he looked down… turning his face into the something soft. His first thought was something along the lines of _HOLY CRAP THAT'S CARTER'S BOOB_ , followed by the frustration he felt towards the seams of the heavy jacket that dug into his face. He jerked back, effectively smashing his head into the wall of the cargo hold. Stars filled his vision, and for a moment he wondered if the past few minutes had been the final hallucination preceding his death. When the pain set in and he remembered what just happened. " _OW._ "

"Is your head alright, sir?"

"No, I meant—" he paused, afraid of her reaction. If anything, she looked concerned for his well-being and didn't appear upset about any form of accidental, uh, nuzzling. Nope, no anger or embarrassment at all. No acknowledgment would be better than any alternative at this point. He just had to play it cool. Act like nothing happened.

Jacob coughed from the doorway, causing Sam to twitch and Jack to once more jerk back into the wall. He slid onto the floor in pain, clutching his head. Please, someone kill him now.

"Jack."

"Jacob," he ground out through clenched teeth.

"Jack, did you ever open that envelope I gave you?"

Sam watched the exchange, perplexed. Jack being intimidated by her 'always-jumps-to-the-wrong-conclusions' father was a well-established pattern, but this light teasing was something new. Her father's seemed to be biting back laughter in favor of an angry scowl but was losing the battle in the midst of the colonel’s flailing. Jack, on the other hand, really seemed to think that he was angry with him. She wondered what her father had given him, and why neither one had mentioned it to her.

"No, I didn't open it." Still shielding his eyes, Jack rolled onto his back, his knees bent and feet flat on the floor in case he needed to get up quickly. Well, maybe not quickly, but he didn’t want to appear as weak as he felt right now.

"You threw it away?"

"No!"

"Then where is it?" Jack moaned. Sam wanted to help him, do something, but she doubted this had anything to do with her. Jack was a big boy—he could take care of himself, even if he was oxygen deprived. Right? "Jack, you didn't just leave it in your truck, did you?"

"No."

He took a step forward, suddenly worried that Jack had actually hurt himself. Already Sam was moving between them in an attempt to shield the man lying prone on the floor. She probably didn't even realize it. "Sam," he turned to address her for the first time, now ignoring Jack. "Sammy, your CO is an idiot. When we get you all back to Earth and checked out, I need you to drive him home and not leave until he opens that envelope. Am I clear?"

"Why don't you just tell us what—"

"I said, 'Am I clear?’"

"Yes, sir. Dad. Sir," she floundered.

The pain in Jack's head and the migraine stirred up by Sam's whirling thoughts ensured that neither of them fell asleep on the ride home, leaving them both with plenty of time to think. Jack was starting to get an idea of what he could expect when he was finally cleared to go home, but he was too exhausted to piece anything together. Daniel walked back once to check on his friend and, seeing him shiver, draped a blanket around his shoulders before informing them that they were still about a few hours out. The plan was for Jacob to ring them down to the base parking lot upon arrival, where they would be met by medical personnel prepared to take Jack and Teal'c straight to the infirmary.

As soon as Daniel left them, Sam scooted along the wall and helped tuck the blanket more securely around Jack. She was battling the urge to ask what her dad had been talking about. "Hey, I've got a story for you."

"Yeah?" Keeping his eyes closed helped fend off the headache.

"We had a little trouble with the engines on the way here and we ended up breaking down in front of a Goa'uld mothership. Daniel had to stall for us, and as it turns out the Tok'ra have devices that project voices so that they sound like a Goa'uld speaking."

"Really?"

"Mhmm. Daniel pretended to be a system lord and introduced himself as the Powerful and Almighty Lord Oz."

"That's my Spacemonkey."


	5. No Strings Attached?

After escorting Jack and Teal'c to the infirmary and checking in with Hammond, Sam and her father found themselves parting ways again. He pulled her into a hug at the elevator. "I love you, Sammy."

"I know Dad. I love you, too. Thanks for stopping by," she said into his shoulder.

He ruffled her hair and pulled back. "Right, like I had a choice." Laughter bubbled to the surface as his daughter stood there, unsure how to respond. "And now we need to complete our mission—assuming that's still possible—before they revoke our Tok'ra card."

"They like Selmak."

"Yes, but I’m still proving myself. Rushing off to save the man who constantly insults them doesn’t exactly win me points."

"But… I mean, you don't have a problem with Colonel O'Neill, right?"

"Of course not, but my personal opinion of your CO doesn’t exactly hold any merit," he said, emphasizing the title. Sam immediately began stammering out some excuse that he didn't have time for. "Sammy, it’s alright. Just promise me you'll take a look at that envelope."

The elevator doors slid open and a smirking Jacob stepped in, nodding to the SF already occupying the space. "You aren't going to tell me what this is about."

"Now where would be the fun in that?"

"Dad," she said sharply.

"Hey, try to keep Jack out of trouble, and next time I'll call _you_."

The doors closed before she could think up a pithy comeback. For lack of anything better to do, Sam roamed the halls and attempted to put her thoughts in order. Despite her father's enthusiasm she couldn't help but worry about the fact that there was a secret envelope in her CO's recliner. Did it have something to do with her? Did it have something to do with _them_? Her head was pounding and a quick whiff of herself was evidence enough that she needed a shower. First, she had something more important to take care of. " _Sam_." She looked up, startled by Janet's soft reprobation. Looking around, she realized she'd walked to the infirmary. Janet didn't look happy. "Sam, when's the last time you slept?"

"Umm, I don't—a few days ago, I guess. How are—?"

Her expression softened, but she moved to block Sam from entering the recovery room. "Just fine. Teal'c—as usual—won't need to stay here much longer, but I want to keep Colonel O'Neill overnight to watch for signs of cerebral hypoxia, just in case. We'll make sure he gets a good night's sleep and run some tests in the morning, but it doesn't look like there's been any long-term damage. You, on the other hand," she said, her tone dropping as she stepped forward to grab Sam's arm and drag her towards the base’s temporary quarters, "need to get some sleep. I hear I'm releasing the colonel into your custody tomorrow, and from experience I know that he isn't the most cooperative patient."

Sam wanted to argue with her friend, or at least call her out on whatever it was she was insinuating, but the pain in her head and the call of her pillow clouded her mind. She waved a weak hand and stumbled to her room. The mystery of the envelope was far from her mind as she collapsed onto her bed, still clothed and coated in space grime.

* * *

Excluding his left shoulder where the sheet must have slid down his reclined form in the night, Jack was comfortably warm, drifting in the blissful state of semi-consciousness. There was movement around him. No sounds in particular registered in his mind. A few minutes later he became aware of metal chair legs scraping against linoleum, indicating that someone was now occupying the chair near his bed. Depending on the visitor, they would already be aware that the various machines checking his vitals would indicate that he was waking up—brain activity or heart rate, first? He absentmindedly itched at the tape holding his IVs in place, knowing that he could only feign sleep for so long before a nurse demanded something from him. Maybe if he—nope, no way to go back to sleep now. The pressure in his bladder demanded attention. He cracked an eye and was grateful the infirmary lights were still set to 'night mode'.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty."

"Greetings, All-Powerful Oz," he croaked. Daniel grabbed a cup from the nightstand and helped bring the straw to Jack's mouth. Jack glared at his friend for thinking he needed the help but said nothing because he was grateful for the help.

"They told you about that?" Daniel asked, pushing his glasses back into place. They immediately slid down his nose again as he returned the water to the stand. "I'm glad to see you haven't lost your sense of humor."

He snorted. "It'll take a lot more than shooting me into a vacuum for that to happen. Speaking of vacuums," he began, looking around and not finding anyone else, "where'd everyone go? I wanted to thank Jacob for the ride."

"He left last night after we got in. Teal'c was discharged earlier this morning. I believe Janet told Sam the same thing she told me, which was to get the heck out of her infirmary before we fall asleep blocking a doorway. Really, though—how are you feeling?"

"I hafta pee."

"Right, uhh, nurse!"

Janet checked in a short time later and, realizing that it would be useless to try and convince her patient to stay another day, released him on the grounds that he allow Carter to drive him home to rest. Even Daniel recognized that it was a setup, but Jack was too preoccupied to tell either of them off. Daniel at least had the good grace to keep his comments to himself. On one hand Jack dreaded what was to come. They were in for what was sure to break a wall into Pandora's room, releasing that half-assed confession they locked away there. He was trying to follow her lead as far as that went, but the interference was a little more than he could handle.

On the other hand… No, no, there was no other hand. Carter wanted to put it behind them, so as far as Jack was concerned there was no “it.”

If only it were that easy. He scrubbed his face with his hands in a futile attempt to push those thoughts aside. A cough from the infirmary door shifted his attention to Carter, who was nervously waiting to drive him home. A quick nod from Janet and Jack sprang from his bed. The doctor laughed to herself as she watched the two officers high-tail it to the elevator.

Both could feel that something big was about to happen, but neither knew what to anticipate. The more Jack thought about it, the more he wondered how far Jacob would go to make his daughter happy. If he thought it was Jack at the root of the problem, would he convince Hammond to send Jack off to the Tok'ra for an extended visit? Or maybe they were transferring Carter, starting a team of eggheads from Area 51? He couldn't imagine her in command so soon in her career, let alone in command of a group of soft-handed scientists. Then again, he couldn't see the generals plotting to break up SG1 without due notice, and allowing said notice to be stuffed into a recliner for days on end. It had to be some sort of ultimatum, but an ultimatum that they were free to ignore?

The drive to Jack's house was silent for the most part. He was too nervous to turn on the radio and pretended to be absorbed by the scenery, but when Carter turned left instead of passing straight through an intersection he voiced his confusion. "Oh, I ordered a pizza. I skipped out on lunch and I wasn't sure if—"

"No, good call. Haven't exactly been home to stock up."

"I guessed as much. Are you hungry? I mean, are you feeling better?"

He clapped his hands together in mock enthusiasm. "Yep, no more tingling extremities or hallucinations."

"You were hallucinating?"

"Uhhh... I remember looking around for a waiter. And something about blue cake that was actually chocolate for some reason, and then an earthquake. But that was probably when you guys showed up."

"We had to nudge the ship in order to wake you up, sir."

"I was asleep?" She nodded. "Huh. Coulda sworn I was conscious the whole time."

"Conscious, but hallucinating?"

"Alright, when you put it like that I sound crazy. I—" he paused, overcome by a yawn, "—think I'll go to bed early tonight, just to be safe."

The yawn was infectious and Sam followed his lead. "Hmm, me too." Although she had showered, Jack could still make out lasting signs of sleep deprivation, evidence to her frenzied effort to bring them home. He wanted to bridge the gap, let her know that whatever her father was up to wouldn't change anything between them, but he couldn't lie to her. Something was going to change today, and he couldn't bring himself to hope that it would be for the better.

In the driver's seat, Sam was anxious to discover what all the secrecy was about. Sneaking a sidelong glance, she couldn't help but notice that Jack was also struggling to maintain his composure. Clearly he was frustrated by the need for outpatient care—surveillance, more like it—and Sam had already reasoned that she needed to carpool with him because he own car was still in the shop. Add to that the stress and physical toll of their most recently botched mission, the poor man looked like he was ready to leap from the truck into on-coming traffic. Despite their light conversation, Sam couldn't clear the ominous cloud from the back of her thoughts and the two fell into silence again after the pizza was paid for.

Jack released a deep breath as he unlocked the door, glad to be home. He tossed his jacket over the back of a chair at the kitchen table, grabbed a roll of paper towels, and carried the pizza into the living room. Sam joined him with a couple of beers, setting them down on the coffee table before following Jack's blank stare towards the far corner of the room. She found the envelope in the recliner and they sat down together on the couch, staring at it. If she hadn't known that it was from her father, she would have guessed from its awkward bulk that the thing would explode as soon as they tore into it. Before she lost her nerve she helped herself to the pizza, silently urging Jack to do the same.

Consumed by dreadful curiosity, he only managed a single slice before—downing his beer—he sunk back into the sofa. To Sam, it looked like the colonel was testing his x-ray vision, fixated as he was. Suddenly he turned his gaze, noting that she was nervously finishing her third slice. "Alright. Let's get this over with."

Sam tossed her pizza onto a paper towel on the coffee table. "Wait—don't you think you should tell me what this is all about?"

"I have no idea what it is, so I can't say why he gave it to me. All I know is that he's worried about you, and that he thought this would help."

"Help? Help what?"

Deciding that it wouldn't help the mood to confess that he'd been interrogated and threatened before the envelope came into his possession, Jack held his hands up in mock surrender. "Hey, I don't know any more than you do." He scooted to put some distance between them before tearing into the mystery package, expecting some legalese printed on USAF stationary along with the cause of the strange bulge in the center.

Never in a million years could Jack have guessed the actual contents of the envelope. He lined the items up on the coffee table to get a better look, but he still couldn't make heads nor tails of the significance of the junk in front of them. There was a stringless cowboy marionette, a CD by some boy band he vaguely recognized, a menu from O'Malley's, a laminated "Get Out of Jail, Free” card and…

That was it. No note with any sort of explanation. Just those four items.

"I don't get it," he said aloud. He looked around to see if anyone was hiding with a camera. Teal'c was stealthy, maybe they put him up to it. Carter was sitting next to him on the sofa, but that was it. Nope. It wasn't a prank.

The menu made a little sense, but not much. Everyone on base went to O'Malley's because it was the only place in town to get a good steak and not pay through your teeth for it. It was now common knowledge that he, Daniel and Carter were banned, but other than that there was no real significance for him. Maybe there was an exile period that had passed and they were allowed to enter the establishment again. If not, someone was just being rude.

Then there was the _Monopoly_ card. He picked it up and glared at the little tuxedo-clad man flying out of the bird cage. He and his mustache were the cause of many a temper tantrum in the O’Neill clan. Flipping the card over, Jack discovered the scrawled names of people who seemed to relish anonymity. It was probably safe to assume that two of the scrawls belonged to Hammond and Jacob. "Okay. I still don't get it."

He picked up the marionette and turned it over in his hands. It was a cowboy doll—something from a movie he'd taken Cassie to see—but this one was definitely a marionette. Rather, it _had_ been a marionette before someone severed the strings. The plastic badge on its vest read 'Sheriff,' but he couldn't remember the name of the character or the movie. On the bottom of the left boot was a label that read ' _Property of USAF_ '.

 _Weird_.

The CD was one Sam recognized, as Cassie had been obsessing during the months before its release. The girl didn't go anywhere without her "Earth music," and N'SYNC was her new favorite band. Sam personally didn’t see the appeal, but Cassie said that she had to like it in order to fit in, although Sam had her suspicions. Having been forced to listen to a few songs himself, Jack could only chalk the obsession up to alien naiveté. Those songs were definitely not age appropriate for their sweet, innocent Cassie. Neither of them understood why they'd been given a copy.

For all that Jack O'Neill played dumb so that people would not develop high-expectations for him to fall short of, he really was a pretty smart guy. He knew that his team did not fall for the façade (which was why it was so easy to aggravate Daniel by playing dumb), and only a few people who really _knew_ him were fooled by the caveman routine. Carter certainly wasn't one of them, so Jack took her silence as an invitation to figure out the puzzle himself. Either that or she had totally disassociated and he was on his own.

He rearranged the items on the coffee table and started thinking aloud. Menu. Card. Puppet. "Dinner at O'Malley's… You aren't going to jail for it… Have fun at the concert? And _this_ is supposed to be their solution? Remind me not to thank Hammond for this…" Maybe the items meant something different? He tried again.

"Solution for what, exactly?"

"I don't know," he lied. Sam let it slide, figuring she probably didn't really want to know. The clues didn't make sense to her at all, but Jack was determined. She kept her comments to herself as she thought back over her father's last visit. A pattern began to form in her mind's eye, a pattern that made her gut roil in apprehension.

Jack kept at it. "Backstage passes at a place that will call the cops if you show up… They will call the sheriff, but you aren't going to jail?"

And again.

"Clint Eastwood called and he wants his board games back. No, he isn't pressing charges, but he would like to take you out for dinner and a concert. Nope, scratch that—he _is_ pressing charges and you're dead meat."

And again.

"There's a costume party at an Irish pub and your name is too Irish so you have to dress up as a cowboy and Carter has to dress up as… Okay, I don't even want to finish that one."

And again.

"A cowboy and a rich man with a monocle walk into a pub secretly run by the Air Force…" OK, maybe he could use some help. Carter was biting her lip again, but she was too still for his liking. Jacob had told him that they were to open the package together, but he wasn't sure why. Either the contents were for him to puzzle over until he died, or they held some secret meaning for her. Why did it involve them both? The free pass had to be the key here, meaning that there was something that Carter needed that wouldn’t normally—.

"Wait a minute. Oh, OH!" Going back over his interrogation the morning Jacob had given him the package, the clues suddenly made sense. Maybe. Possibly. The puppet clue was still a little fuzzy, but if he was right…

"Sir? What is it?"

Puppet. CD. Menu. Card.

If he was right, then he had just been handed a top-secret envelope by a high-level Tok’ra operative in league with the President of the United States and the commanding officer of the SGC, all with the intent of making sure that it was all hunky dory for him to see Carter and vice versa. Outside of work. Romantically.

" _Holy Hannah_." Sam jumped to attention as he borrowed her curse. What on earth was going on? Jack was now frozen in shock. She had seen him that way a handful of times, but those rare occurrences had typically involved fake funerals for Daniel or something equally traumatic. She didn't understand what had him so upset. No, upset wasn't the word. Thunderstruck.

Jack was trying to process the fact that the three men who could very well have him buried alive _on another planet_ for J-walking, let alone fraternizing with a subordinate officer, had just given him permission to ask _the_ Major Doctor Samantha Carter out on a date. A _date_ date. As in a movie-and-dinner type date where he would pick her up in his truck and drool over how amazing she looked and not have to worry about Daniel or Teal'c or the entire country giving a damn about it. Then he could flirt and play footsie with her over dinner and tickle her during the movie and kiss her senseless on her front stoop when he dropped her off at her place before she—.

"Sir?" He didn't respond. His mind was still reeling with possibilities that he wasn't supposed to be thinking about. The harder he tried to clear them out, the more difficult it was to focus. Everything he'd been repressing for the past few years surfaced in a torrent. Sam watched him flush—something he _never_ did—and turned her attention to the objects. He'd left them ordered cowboy doll, menu, _Monopoly_ card. She picked up the CD and read through the track titles. " 'Bye Bye Bye, It's Gonna Be Me, Space Cowb—'. _Oh_." The titles became more suggestive as she read on.

They looked at each other, trying to gauge the other's reaction. "Carter, please tell me this isn't what I think it is. Your dad is pranking us. Is Jacob a prankster? I kinda doubt this is Selmak’s style."

"I—Dad wouldn't do that. No. And even if he did… Sir, _the president_ signed this card!" This had to stop. This hope bubbling in her chest was going to spark and she’d spontaneously combust. Her stomach churned and she suddenly wished that she hadn't forced herself to down so much pizza.

Jack wasn't faring much better. She was too close. He practically sprinted across the room to the window. After a few minutes passed and they were both able to control their breathing, Jack turned around again, making sure to keep plenty of distance between them. Before they made any decisions, they needed to have all of the cards on the table. If they'd somehow jumped to the wrong conclusion here, he wasn’t sure how they’d recover. "I'm calling Hammond."

"Right, yes. Hammond." Sam needed to keep her hands busy as she waited. She needed something to take her mind off of things. The items still lay before her, the stringless marionette drawing her attention as Jack searched for his phone. He found it as she discovered the cord hanging out of the doll's back.

" _That's an order, Colonel. You too, Major_." That was Jacob's voice. Jack froze. Sam gulped and pulled the string again. " _Talk it over before you come in and sign the forms_ ," echoed Hammond’s drawl. She pulled the cord a third time. " _We know where you live, Tau'ri._ "

"WHAT THE HELL? You can't just make Selmak record a message like that!" Jack screeched.

The messages repeated after that, but Sam continued pulling the cord to convince herself that this wasn't a dream. Maybe the colonel’s hallucinations were spreading.

Jack paced the room, frustrated that he'd been put on hold and that Sam kept playing with the cowboy. Selmak's threat made him cringe each time he heard it. When he finally got through, he pressed the speaker button on the handset and set it on the coffee table. "Colonel O'Neill? Is there something wrong?"

" _Christ_ , George! What did you guys think you were doing? You know this isn’t funny and—"

"Come again?"

"The damn envelope, sir! What kind of a sick—?"

"I can assure you that this is no joke, Jack. Is Sam there?"

Sam felt uneasy with the use of their first names despite his easy tone. "You're on speaker, sir."

"Good, then we can sort this out now. Better to do it over the phone than in my office, I think."

"Why? Because you're worried we'll _all_ get caught?" He was shouting, but as Hammond said, it was over the phone.

"No, Jack. I don't want to talk about this on base because I'm getting tired of other people shouting at me in _my_ office. Now sit down and let me speak this time." Jack slammed down into the loveseat next to the couch. It wasn't safe to sit next to Sam because it looked like her eyes were watering and he couldn't trust himself not to comfort her yet. "Before you say anything, you should know that Jacob and I were apprised of the results of the za'tarc test. While I can’t say I’m happy about your withholding pertinent information from your reports, I respect that you did what you thought was necessary under the circumstances. I imagine this hasn't been easy on either of you."

"Ha!"

Hammond continued, ignoring Jack's outburst. "I've spoken to my superiors and, after a recommendation from Dr. Fraiser, myself, and the Tok'ra, they have agreed to waive the regulations preventing the two of you from… fraternizing. Believe it or not, your foul moods have been affecting the rest of my personnel and I can't in good conscience allow either of you to travel off-world while your temperaments are so volatile. Dr. Fraiser agrees, and we don't want to see either of you set foot in, on, or around the mountain until you've pulled yourselves together. That being said, this is generally the exact opposite approach I would take for anyone else in your position. SG-1 is and always has been an outstandingly effective team and I would hate for anything to stand in the way for the sake of your own careers and the legitimacy of the Stargate Program. Am I understood?"

"With all due respect, sir, I don't—"

"Do I need to repeat myself, Major?"

"No, sir. Understood," they replied. Jack ended the call and chucked the phone across the room, where it smashed into the wall and various parts popped off. They watched the batteries scatter, rolling across the light carpet. One stopped beneath the entertainment center, the other at Jack's foot.

A sob wracked Carter’s body and she darted from the room. He wanted to go after her, but his legs wouldn't move. The sound of a door slamming echoed through the house, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone throwing up in the downstairs bathroom.

"That’s the last time I eat pizza from that pizza place,” Jack said to the empty room.


	6. Is This the Beginning or Beginning of the End?

It was 40 minutes or so before Sam felt steady enough to leave the bathroom. Unable to find a spare toothbrush in any of the drawers, she'd used the one marked _Daniel_ and made a note to buy him a new one. Her head was still reeling and Jack wasn't in the living room, the kitchen, or anywhere else she could think to look. His truck was still in the driveway so she knew he hadn't run out on her. Not that she’d blame him if he had. Running away felt like a good idea, but to do that she'd need to either call a cab or 'borrow' Jack's truck. The first option left her at home without a vehicle, the second left Jack without one, and both options made her look like a coward. If she confronted him now, they could figure out a way to try and put this embarrassing escapade behind them. They were, after all, very adept in that arena.

Eventually, she found him lying face-down in the back yard. Did he want to be alone, should she go back inside and let him come to her? No, that wasn't a good idea. She had work to do, and they were both banned from the base until they got whatever this was sorted out. The sooner they worked everything out the better, and years of working with the colonel had taught her that he wouldn’t initiate this conversation on his own. After all, he’d been hiding that stupid envelope for months.

His face still to the ground, he pulled a hand out from underneath his head and patted the grass to his right. "C'mere."

"How did you know I was here?"

"You smell minty fresh."

She doubted he detect smell the lingering scent of toothpaste with his nose pressed in the dirt. "Oh."

"And your steps are louder when you're mad."

Sam sat cross-legged where he'd indicated, staring at the back of his neck. "I'm not mad, sir."

"Please don't call me that, not now. Otherwise it’s my turn to hurl."

"I'm sorry, but it's what I've always called you."

"I know," he groaned.

"Are you going to stop calling me ‘Carter?’"

He growled into the grass. To an outsider, he may have been trying to intimidate his grass short, or keep the ants away. Sam couldn't find it in her to laugh. "So you're ‘Carter’ and I'm ‘sir’ and that's how it's always gonna be? I have a name, you know."

"And I don't?"

"’Carter’ is your name," he defended.

Her patience was wearing thin. "How very observant of you, O'Neill." He made another angry sound, and she knew she was starting to get a rise out of him. If she kept it up, maybe he would finally pull his face out of the dirt. "O'Neill, I really think we should talk about this. Unless you want to be left alone, because, O'Neill, I would hate to impose when you're having a mid-life crisis. That's not my place."

"Cut it out."

"What was that, O'Neill? I couldn't hear you through the ground."

"Ohfercryinoutloud! Stop it!" He flipped into a sitting position and stared her down. "You are being childish, _Samantha_."

Infuriated that he was putting her in the wrong, she defiantly held his gaze. "You're the one that started it, _Jonathan_."

" _Sam_."

" _Jack_."

Hearing her use his name—he could count on one hand the number of times that had ever happened—was the end for him. He couldn't help it when she was so angry. Not that he was going to tell her that. "You know, you're sexy when you're mad," he blurted. Well, so much for that.

The comment took her by surprise, but she wasn't about to let him flatter her out of her anger. "Sir, I'm trying to be serious."

"And I'm serious about you not calling me ‘sir.’ You don't have to be Soldier Sam all the time, you know," he added in a whisper. Sam felt the tears welling up again, his words so closely echoing her father's. She turned away to shield the wet streaks on her cheeks. He scooted next to her and, despite the obvious tension in her back, slung an arm around her shoulders and tucked her into his side. He absolutely did _not_ grin when she allowed the contact. "Hey, I'm glad you called me out like that." She laughed and sniffed at the same time. "I keep wondering what you're really thinking whenever I pull rank. The way you always stick to formalities, well, I was worried that you would only ever see me as _sir_ and never as _Jack_."

"And here I thought that was a good thing." She buried her face into his shoulder and lost herself in the moment. The scene was commonplace – she cried and he held her. They'd indulged in small acts of comfort before; a squeeze of the hand, a pat on the shoulder. The real comfort had been knowing that the desire to offer more was there, even if the action never followed. On a few occasions, he had gone a step further and pulled her into a tight embrace, but those moments were always laden with tension and the mutual understanding that they were toeing a line neither could afford to cross.

This was something new, something heavier. Her tears fell harder and he tightened his hold on her. "Aw, Carter." He rocked her, allowed her to smear snot all over the front of his shirt. Her hands clutched at him until he was no longer sure who was holding on more tightly. Jacob had said that Sam was a mess, but he'd spent so much time nursing his own wounds that he hadn't noticed, or rather he had been too scared to look. Jack didn't plan on crying about it, though his nerves were as raw as hers after the events of the past few days. It was always like this after a close call, but this time they hadn't been allowed to slink home and recover in private. He suspected that she dealt with near-death experiences and potentially losing teammates differently than he did, and was elated that she was allowing him to share the moment with her. It wasn't that Sam pushed him away as much as she buried her feelings until she could deal with them in private.

' _I watched Carter cry over a bowl of oatmeal all through breakfast this morning for goodness sake.'_

' _Sam's got this ugly orange blanket she keeps in the living room for decoration… Yesterday I found her curled up on the floor in the basement with that damn orange blanket.'_

He understood. On the ice planet they'd simply been allowed to be themselves, even if they weren't really, you know, themselves. A man met a woman he worked with, they ate together, talked together, and sent each other warm glances throughout the day. No complications with rank, duty, or near-death experiences kept them apart or complicated the situation. He knew exactly how depressing it was that it had taken them being enslaved and mind-wiped in order for them to experience that level of comfort around each other. No judgment—no guilt. That's what they wanted, needed, but were unable to get as Air Force officers. Until now, though Jack doubted it was going to be as cut-and-dry as that.

"You could've told me, you know," she sniffed.

"What?"

Sam sat up a little straighter and wiped her nose on her sleeve, embarrassed by the dark stain on Jack's shirt. She made sure she put at least an inch between them before continuing. If Jack was reluctant to let her go, he kept it to himself. "Sorry. I've been running on base coffee and adrenaline for the past few days. I usually don't break down like this."

"I know. You’re one of the toughest people I know, but what exactly was I supposed to tell you?"

A tuft of grass was jerked from the soil and plucked apart by her nervous fingers. "That my dad gave that stuff to you. How long have you had it?"

"Ummm… Since we got back from '118, when I drove him into the base?"

"What? That was months ago!"

Her large eyes bore into his and he looked off into the trees, guilty under her scrutiny. "I didn't say anything about it because I knew you were anxious about your dad visiting, and you know how he's always been… quick to jump to conclusions. At least where you’re concerned."

"That's putting it nicely," she scoffed.

"Right. Well, he was concerned about your emotional wellbeing, thought I might have an idea since I wasn’t doing too well myself. He and Hammond… kinda… interrogated me. At zat-point."

"WHAT!?"

He placed his hands on her shoulders and made sure she looked him in the eye, praying that she would understand. "I swear I didn't tell them anything, Sam. They were under the impression something happened between us before we got our memories back, and they kept asking if we'd ever… you know. They kept insinuating we were hiding something, and they pissed me off enough that I stormed out. Dad chased me topside, gave me that envelope and made me promise I would open it with you. I was still trying to get over the fact that I couldn't just _be_ with you the way we were on ‘118, and then they started accusing us of breaking the regs and I don't know how they thought I could ever take advantage of you, even when I didn't even know who I was and… I snapped. I was embarrassed and insulted enough for the both of us, so I hid that envelope and tried not to think about it. For all I knew it was a formal charge for something we never did, and they didn't even have the decency to tell you about it." He took a deep breath, studying Sam's to his ranting. "I'm sorry I kept it from you, but I panicked. I didn't know what it was, and my only thoughts after that mission involved ignoring the putting all of those thoughts back in the room and getting things back to normal." His voice softened a bit. "I guess that was always a tall order anyways."

Sam pulled her knees to her chest and ducked her head, just barely meeting his eyes. "You hid it so well, I thought it was just me going crazy after all of these years."

"Tell you what—if either of us go crazy, I'll go first so you know it's coming." That pulled a smile out of her. "But c'mon, didn't you walk in on me banging my head on my desk?"

"It’s not like that was the first time." The smile went away.

Jack wanted it back. "Listen, Sam, I know you're mad, but—"

"I told you, I'm not mad."

"—Okay, so not mad but _upset_. If you aren't comfortable with any of this, I mean…"

"What?" Her heart skipped a beat and her blood ran cold. Again she found herself wondering if they were on the same page or not. Her hope was trampled down by the uncertainty in his voice. It was the same tone he'd used when he agreed to forget about their confessions during the za'tarc testing.

He grimaced. "… Well… I don't really know what I mean."

_Well that's reassuring_ , she thought to herself. "Honestly, I still don't know if I fully comprehend what's going on."

"Alright, let’s start with the basics; General Hammond, the President of the United States, and your _father_ have all signed off on—on…"

"On a free pass to break the frat regs.” She shuddered. This was shady and invasive as hell. "This is crazy, right?”

He snorted and shifted around, rearranging his legs in a position to relieve the pressure on his knees. Uncomfortable as the ground was, it offered the neutrality the conversation warranted that his couch did not. "I suppose we have a few options. We pick one and go with it."

"Alright. Shoot." It didn’t escape her notice that he was resorting to his military training to figure out how to deal with their situation. The thought bolstered her, because there at least she knew they worked well together.

Unable to help it, Jack hauled himself to his feet and began pacing. He was too jittery to sit still, and moving would keep him from staring at Carter for too long. If he was going to give her up, he needed to keep his head clear. "Option 1: we toss this stuff in a fire and pretend we never saw it. Just go on like we have been for the past four years."

"I don't think I can do that." He paused midstride, unsure if he'd heard her correctly. "Pretend, I mean. I'm tired of remembering and forgetting and acting like there’s nothing here. We can't keep acting like our working relationship isn’t suffering, especially now that other people have taken notice." Not to mention the fact that she just didn't think that her heart could physically take any more strain.

He agreed with her. "Agreed. Option 2: we get everything out in the open, work through all of _this_ ," he emphasized by waving his arms to indicate the space between them, "and then get back to working together like we have been. Professionally." He didn't particularly prefer 2 over 1, but he figured he owed her that option for having kept the envelope a secret for so long. If she wanted to keep things platonic then he would have to find a way to deal with that.

Sam didn't like the sound of either option. She focused her gaze on her hands clasped over her knees, too nervous to observe Jack's jitters in addition to her own as she spoke. "Option 3: we take this opportunity to try and… and see where that lands us. If it works, it works. If it doesn't, it doesn't." The sudden pause of shuffling feet made her look up and she was struck by the raw emotion in his expression. It wasn't an entirely unfamiliar look, but it was one that neither had felt comfortable acknowledging before. Sam took a deep breath and broke eye contact, though he could tell by the intense flush of her skin she remained fully aware of his lingering gaze. "That is, after we talk to Hammond and find out what his conditions are. I don’t want to agree to anything that’s going to result in one or both of us being reassigned."

"I don't think _I_ can do that."

"Try? Or keep working together?"

"No. Yes. Oh, fercryinoutloud, I don't know!" He was digging the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, trying to relieve some of the pressure building in his head and make the indecision go away. What was it he wanted? He knew the answer before he even bothered looking for it, but he wasn't sure if he could accept it. Or more importantly, if _she_ could.

He wanted Carter. Sam. Plain and simple. He wanted to bask in her smile, to laugh with her without worrying about what people would say. He wanted to make love to her, with her, and wake up beside her the next morning. He wanted to be able to hold her when she cried and not feel like he was taking advantage of the situation, like he was looking for any opportunity to keep her in his arms. He wanted to take her fishing, wanted her there in the middle of the night when his nightmares brought on doubts about her wellbeing at that very moment. He wanted to claim her as his in every sense of the word, and to make her laugh at his bad jokes as many times as he could before the Goa'uld or the Replicators or some other crazed alien race destroyed the planet.

When this had become so clear to him, he wasn't entirely certain, but he knew what he wanted. He just wasn't sure that Sam wanted the same thing. Jack knelt down and searched her eyes, hoping to find some shred of understanding there. For a split second he thought he saw it, but all too soon he lost it and was left with a masked Carter. Sam was gone. He needed to find her, to make sure he hadn't imagined her. He valued Carter, depended on Carter each time they stepped through the gate and each time she stopped him from bitch-slapping Daniel. Carter was one of the few constants in his life, and as much as he relied upon her presence, he needed _Sam_ there with him at that moment. He loved Carter, but not the way he loved Sam.

Jack did the one thing that he figured would make Carter go away.

She'd slipped up, and she knew she was going to pay for it as soon as she caught the glimmer in his eyes. Inch by inch he tipped closer and inch by inch she leaned away. Not expecting him to continue coming towards her, she lost her balance and ended up flat on the ground. Stealthily, like giant cat, Jack crept forward through the grass until he was hovering over top of her on his hands and knees. He saw the battle playing across her features—Carter didn't want to be there because of the implications, but Sam was too scared to come out of her hiding place. "Sam."

That's all it took. Carter pulled Sam out of her hole and jumped in herself. It was just Sam and Jack now. "Hm?" She was breathless, every fiber of her being was crying out for him and she was tired of fighting against whatever pull he had on her. Even her brilliant military mind was considering sending out the white flag. She didn't want to fight this anymore, but she also wasn't ready for the implications that came with surrender. Pinning on the ground led to looking, and looking led to kissing, and kissing led to touching, and after that the lines blurred together in a mess of epic proportion. How was she supposed to stop any of that from happening when he had her pressed to the ground in his yard?

Satisfied that Sam wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, he put the ball in her court. "I don't think I can 'try it out,' just go along with us as a couple and see how we work out. It sounds too much like a challenge and… and I don't give up easily. You know that better than anyone." She nodded, not quite aware of the movement. The blood was leaving her head and rushing downwards. He was _very_ close. Rather than allow her eyes to wander, she focused on his chest, the spot she'd stained with her tears still visible. Somehow the stain was endearing. "If we do this, I want us to do it the right way and take it slow, Sam, but I also need you to know that I'm in this for the long run."

Only Jack O’Neill could say he wanted to take this slowly and make it sound like a marriage proposal at the same time. Not that she wanted to jump into anything without thinking it over, but her body was screaming that thinking was overrated and she should allow the nice-looking gentleman to do whatever he liked with her. He'd just admitted to wanting to stick around, so why put off the one thing they'd been denying themselves any longer? She couldn't see why they should beat around the bush when quiet moments like this were so rare for them.

As if he read her mind, Jack stood and backed away. His hands went straight to his pockets and he rocked on his heels, apparently nervous. Oh, right. Shaky breaths and dilated pupils were not an appropriate form of response to an admission like that. "Slow." She took another moment to clear her head, grateful for the space he'd put between them. The poor man deserved a full sentence from her. "Taking it slow is definitely a good idea."

"I'm glad you think so." He smiled and offered her a hand. Sam took it and got to her feet. "Before we talk to Hammond again, I want to know…That is, I want to make sure we're on the same page."

Sam cocked her head to the side in question. Hadn’t she just agreed that slow was good?

"I'm not exactly a spring chicken, Sam. I don't jump through the gate unless I have a good idea what the ground looks like on the other side." He was uncharacteristically nervous, not meeting her eyes and bouncing on his heels. When he did that, he looked years younger. It was a good thing that he only acted this way around her, because she had a sneaky suspicion that if Daniel ever saw him this way that Jack would never be able to intimidate him into compliance again.

Was it wrong of her to delight in his obvious lack of confidence? She stood and took a step toward him, standing closer than she normally allowed herself to be around him. "You do know that I was still doped on tranquillizers when Anise tested me again, right? It was difficult for me to filter my thoughts, and I needed to find a way to tell the truth without spilling _everything_ , so I panicked and repeated what you said because I couldn't come up with anything better. That's also why I said we should forget about it. I wanted to take it back as soon as I made the suggestion, but by then you'd already agreed. I definitely wasn't operating at full capacity, so I took the safest route and followed your lead."

He rolled his eyes, secretly delighted her trust in him was instinctual. "Carter, I wasn't going to say 'I love you' for the first time when I was strapped to a chair and surrounded by people during a test where I couldn't even look at you. I should've said it, but I don't think that's something you confess when your hand is being forced."

The flush that erupted across her skin was immediate and utterly embarrassing, but the colonel had been honest and she owed him the same. "I agree. And just to clarify, we aren't doing this because we're being ganged up on, are we?"

"No, definitely no coercion. Would we be having this conversation if there wasn’t a talking cowboy doll on my coffee table? I don’t know."

True, they were both pretty good at repressing. "I guess what I meant is that they finally got us to talk in the first place, but other than that nothing has changed." Dear Lord, why could she use actual adult words here?

At least Jack was managing to follow her train of thought. "If anything, I like you a little more than before. That’s also got nothing to do with Dad or anyone else threatening me with a zat."

Against all reason, Sam flushed a darker shade of pink. She wasn't sure if the red tinge would ever leave her face again. Jack loved her, but now didn’t seem like the right time to give a name to the butterflies circling over molten lava in her stomach. If she said it now she knew it would come out weird, and she would regret it. Like he said, you shouldn't have to profess your love under coercion or obligation. She could wait for the right time to reaffirm what he already knew. "I'm glad, because I'm counting on you sticking around for a while."

"I meant it when I said I'm in this for the long-run," he said firmly, cupping her face in one hand while the using the other to hold her hand to his heart. She thought she'd mastered handling Flirty-Jack, but she it was just now hitting her that his wisecracks before had only been intended to make her laugh. If they were going to allow something more to develop between them, she was going to experience a whole new side to the man she thought she already knew so well.

Turnabout was fair play. "And how long is that, exactly?"

His smile grew into that shit-eating grin he wore whenever he thought he was tricking her into something and he took a half step closer. "How long do you want it to be?"

Her grin mirrored his for a moment and Jack knew he was in trouble. "A little longer than average, I would hope."

"Are you saying that _the_ Major-Doctor Samantha Carter doesn't need an exact measurement?"

"Not for the preliminary sketch, no. Though, I will need more accurate descriptions if the proposed experiment is to come to fruition."

Jack snorted and pulled away. "Alright—you win. I know when I’m in over my head." He glanced around, noticing for the first time just how dark it was getting. How long had it been since he'd fled the confines of the house for the solace of the yard? Pleased with their progress, he adopted his best military stance and began barking orders. Startled, Sam slipped back into officer mode, something Jack was a little disappointed by. She did manage a rueful smile, though, and that more than made up for the slip in Jack's mind. "Major Carter! Your orders are to go home and get a good night's sleep for tomorrow's mission. At 0800 hours, you will meet with your commanding officer in the base parking lot, from which point you will both enter the compound and seek out General Hammond and demand that he hand over the paperwork he's been hiding. After signing said paperwork, you will return to your lab where you and your CO will work out the details of your next mission. Any questions?"

Sam saluted smartly, though Jack could tell she was laughing at his expense. "Sir, what does the next mission entail?"

"That information is on a need-to-know basis. You will be duly notified after completing the briefing. Dismissed, Major."

"Yessir. There's only one problem with this plan."

"… Apart from you calling me 'sir' again?"

Sam rolled her eyes. "I still don’t have a car."

"D'oh. I blame the apexia."

"Apoxia."

"Whatever. Borrow the truck, pick me up early and we can stop for doughnuts on the way in." He offered her the keys with a smile, but something in that simple gesture tempted her to disobey, almost as though he were inviting her to stay. She didn't want to leave. Not yet, not so soon after making this giant leap. If she left now she would be free to reinterpret—or more likely in her case _mis_ interpret—everything he'd said this afternoon. She needed to shut her brain off, and Jack was one of the few people she'd met that could help her in that area. However, they had agreed to take things slow and she knew they were both still too raw after the '301 misadventure to risk spending the night together, even if they kept their clothes on. They both needed rest and time to process.

Regardless of the painful ache in her chest brought on by the thought of leaving, she was resolved. He picked up on it the moment her decision was made and tossed her the keys, his demeanor relaxing in relief now that they knew, at least for the night, where they stood. That was all the confirmation Sam needed to know she'd made the right decision.

They bade each other an awkward and hurried farewell, knowing full well that they were going to spend all night glaring at the ceiling as sleep eluded them. Sam wasn't sure how she was going to be able to face General Hammond with the knowledge that he and her father had covertly conspired against them, whereas Jack was still insulted that everyone had assumed he and Sam had not only been carrying on behind their backs for some time, but that they would welcome outside involvement. Ah, the sweet joy of temporarily unofficial Air Force-sanctioned love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK guys, bear with me a little while longer. No matter how hard I try, I can't bend these two to my will. They are very, very stubborn characters. I added a little more fluff into this chapter to appease the angry masses (all eight or so of you), so I hope it was worth the wait!
> 
> Be warned, there's another temper tantrum or two in the next chapter.


	7. Two For The Show

As directed, Sam picked Jack up early the following morning, though he did little more than offer an awkward smile and a subdued "Good morning," neither of which helped to calm her nerves.

"Carter."

"Colonel."

"So, get any sleep?" That was rich, coming from the man with the giant bags under his eyes. Somehow he looked worse than she felt. She tried to respond, but a yawn snuck out as she backed the truck out of the driveway. "That's what I thought. And ditto," he added with a yawn.

"Sorry, si—sorry. I just, I don't know, I keep wondering what the final straw was. I know that I wasn’t acting like myself after we got home from ‘118, but I didn’t think we were acting drastically different. What made them decide to get involved?"

"Maybe they thought they could talk you out of it. You know, do an intervention, scare me off and fix you up with some egghead from R&D." Sam laughed. Despite his teasing, Jack was having his own doubts. If their dear friends took it upon themselves to meddle thus far, what else were they planning? Various scenarios had danced through his mind all night, scenarios where he was forced into retirement, taken off of the gate travel roster, Sam was demoted to the labs, or a combination of those options that ultimately resulted in SG-1 being replaced or disbanded. These fears he hadn't changed his mind about Sam, but what price would they have to pay? "Oh, _River Road_! Good call. You grab a table and I'll get the go-go juice."

While Sam didn't exactly consider coffee and donuts a legitimate date, she couldn't help feeling a little nervous. The coffee shop was too close to the mountain for them to avoid suspicion, as it was frequented by SGC personnel. Anybody fed up with the tar brewed on the base ran here for a caffeine fix. They sat opposite each other at a booth for four in a silent agreement to at least attempt to maintain some semblance of aloof professionalism. It wasn't unusual for officers to meet for breakfast, but observers had grown accustomed to either Teal'c or Daniel accompanying the two officers in question. Jack slid a napkin across the table and sank back into the cushion.

**Cpt. Fredericks' eyes are going to fall out of his head if he keeps staring like that.** He took a sip from his mug and rolled his eyes in the captain's direction.

Sam followed his gaze and stifled a laugh before picking up the proffered pen and scribbling a response. **_And Janet will be too busy doing a happy dance to put them back in._**

**She's gonna be happy Fredericks' eyes fell out?**

**_No! She's going to be happy to hear about us._ **

**Yes… It's very salacious, us having coffee and donuts in public instead of on base.**

**_Just how many people do you think are going to give us crap about dating?_ **

Jack snagged another napkin from the dispenser to continue their discussion. **I thought this wasn't supposed to be a date? But you're blushing, so…**

**_I am NOT blushing. And this isn't a date. It's breakfast._ **

**You are and it is. And men and women only have breakfast together if they…** He shot her a look she didn't fully understand until he passed her the napkin. **Although I prefer eating in.**

Was it her imagination, or was _he_ now blushing? **_I'll try to remember that, but I think you're getting ahead of yourself. I usually don't eat breakfast._**

**We'll see about that.**

Before Sam was able to respond, a figure appeared at their sides, blocking the morning rays. "Good morning, Harriman. Siler." Jack slid the note beneath his mug and stretched out to fill his bench, a clear signal that he was not inviting the two techs to join them.

"Morning sir, ma'am."

"Morning."

A playful glint in his eye, Jack transitioned to work mode. "What brings you two here on this fine morning?"

"Coffee, sir."

Siler's obvious response provoked him further. "Ya don't say? Looks like you weren't the only one with a brainstorm this morning, Carter."

"Sir," she warned, knowing from experience that the tech wasn't going to pick up on the sarcasm.

Knowing from experience that the moody colonel typically backed down after he was given whatever information he was after, Walter came to Siler's defense. "The General sends me off base for coffee when he's expecting…" He stopped speaking suddenly, very intrigued by the travel tray in his hands.

"Yes, our fearless leader likes a good coffee when he's got a difficult morning ahead of him, but how did he know we needed to talk to him about the incident the other day and… and the other thing?" he added cryptically. Sam shrugged. She hadn't been the informant. Walter and Siler shared a telling look while Jack backtracked, as though he'd accidentally let something slip as well. "But you won't tell anyone you saw us here, will you Walter?" He winked at Sam, who knew exactly what was going on and didn't find it the least bit amusing.

"Of course, sir. I mean, of course we wouldn’t say anything."

"We weren't even here, ma'am." With that, Siler grabbed Walter by the arm and drug him to the parking lot.

Jack watched their retreat with a smirk. "In an hour, you will be the only one who thinks this was not a date."

"I only said this wasn't a date because right now it is still technically _considered misconduct_ , but my personal feelings about this breakfast are going to remain private until after our meeting with Hammond."

"So you _do_ think it's a date!"

"Shhh!" Sam looked around to see if anyone overheard his outburst. Either no one had been paying attention to the pair or they were now studiously avoiding being caught eavesdropping. "C'mon. I have some reports to finish before we meet with Hammond."

He slapped a few bills on the table before heading out to the truck. "You know, I never thought I'd say this, but I'm actually looking forward to doing paperwork today."

"Me too."

"You're excited about this?"

"Mhmm. Why wouldn't I be? I told you I don't normally eat breakfast. My doctor tells me that it is the most important meal of the day."

"Do you always listen to your doctor?"

Sam smiled across the seat as she buckled herself in. "There's a reason she always lets me out of the infirmary before you."

"I knew it!"

"Speaking of which, I forgot to ask how you're feeling today."

"Thought that was because you didn't need to." Yes, there was a definite twinkle in his eyes that had been missing for a long time, and she couldn't help but beam with pride over knowing that she was the one to bring it back.

As the truck pulled out of the parking lot, the nerves came back full force. They couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere there was a hidden string, a line they couldn't cross. Officers didn't date their CO. It simply wasn't done, and it was the prevailing reason that no one had brought their non-relationship into the light before. Given time, Jack was confident they could have recovered from their time on the ice planet. It's what they did. Now that they'd brought all of those repressed emotions to the surface, though, there was no going back. He couldn't write off her bright-eyed, happy to see him expression as a trick of the light, couldn't steel himself against her voice when it was soft with affection, couldn't prevent himself planning a future with her now that he knew she was more than open to the idea. And maybe he didn't have the whole picture yet, but for the first time he felt like they weren't a complete and total lost cause. In his book, those were good odds. Now that he knew they had options, he was fully prepared to fight for what he wanted. Nothing was going to change. Everything was going to change. There had to be a catch.

A quick sideways glance showed Sam that Jack was prepping for battle. Oddly enough, knowing that he was expecting a confrontation helped settle her nerves. She had no idea what to expect from this meeting, but following her CO headlong into a fight was routine. She hoped it wouldn't come to that. After all, this was all Hammond’s idea, right? Her dad was involved, but he didn’t have the pull to make something like this happen on his own. There was no reason this encounter should turn hostile. Right?

Jack noticed her fidgeting and needed a little reassurance himself. He winked at Sam as they climbed into the elevator. Although they were alone in the small box, he knew that some uppity little puppy dog was carefully inspecting the live camera feed from their elevator at that moment. His money was on Walter. Despite the fact that he knew someone was watching their every move, he still wanted to make sure that Sam hadn't managed to change her mind. _Commence stealth com in 3, 2, 1._ "Still green on the fishing?" She looked at him with one of her patented 'I know he's trying to communicate in English, but I have no idea what he thinks he's saying' looks. He tried again. "You remember; Hammond said he was going to sign off on that mission to the planet with the nice fishing spot."

She was running through possible scenarios as quickly as she could postulate and was finding it difficult to tear herself away from the train wreck in her mind's eye. "Sir?"

He gave a low growl of frustration, knowing that it would take a long time to convince her not to call him that on base. Maybe for now, at least, it was for the best. "The one that he called us about yesterday?"

"Oh! _That_ mission, right. With the, uhh, the fish." She couldn't help the blush that rose to her cheeks as she recalled the conversation on the flight home, when she'd called him out on his use of fishing as a code for something more. Her attention was drawn to the camera. She studied it and looked away quickly, realizing that Jack was talking about 'fishing' in the larger sense, and not _fishing_.

"So we're still green?"

"Yes, sir, still a go for the fishing. The general is expecting us?"

His expression became contemplative, as it usually did when he feigned innocence. "I wouldn't exactly put it like that, no, but I’m sure by now he knows we’re here."

"You didn't tell him we were planning on discussing the mission?"

"Not after he was already upset about us reconsidering, no. It should be a nice surprise for him." He knew how much Hammond hated surprises, but Jack was secretly hoping for some payback. "Anyway, this was the best chance for us to fly under the radar since Daniel and Teal'c won't come looking for us."

_He does know that we're still being monitored, doesn't he?_ "Do you think we should talk to them about it? You know Daniel doesn't like being left out." Using her eyes to draw Jack's attention to the camera, Sam tried to steer the conversation away from their purpose for being on base.

Before Jack was able to say that fishing was none of Daniel's business, the elevator stopped and opened for none other than the archeologist. "Uhh, hey guys? I thought we were all on down time until Jack was feeling better. Is everything alright?"

Jack eyed the stack of files Daniel was clutching. "If we're _all_ on down time, what are you doing with those?" He was hoping to distract Daniel for at least six more floors, but Daniel had already anticipated Jack's evasion.

"Actually, I was just handing in some updated mission reports, but you didn't answer my question."

"Didn't you finish your report while you were hawking me in the infirmary yesterday?"

"Yes, but _this_ one had to be updated."

"Why?"

Daniel grinned in a very not-Daniel way. Unable to think of a quick retort, Jack settled on glaring at his friend.

"Actually, Daniel," Sam offered hesitantly, "Colonel O'Neill is due in for a medical screening. He wasn't up to driving, so General Hammond called and asked me to give him a ride while I sign off on a few things I forgot to take care of before I left yesterday."

Daniel faltered, genuine concern erasing his mirth as he looked his friend over. "But I thought that Janet cleared you to leave. Are you alright?"

Jack, who'd perked up some at the smooth lie, remembered that he wasn't supposed to be feeling as well as he was. Being trapped in an alien spacecraft and hurtled into space was taxing on the average human being. He pretended to cough, which brought a tell-tale smirk to the face of his 2IC. "She only let me go because I put up a fight. Doc says I'm fine, but she needed me to come back and make sure I don't have pneumonia or something. She wanted to make sure my levels were good unhooked from all of her doohickies." _Cough_. Three more floors to go, and they could hide in Hammond's office. That would take some more explaining, but luckily Daniel got lost when it came to military protocol and they could probably feed him another lie to make him go away.

But Daniel wasn't biting, and the grin crept back to his lips. "I could believe that, but as it so happens I talked with Janet earlier this morning. She gave me the impression that the two of you were coming in to sign some forms…"

Jack and Sam looked at each other in horror. Janet was their friend. She was supportive. She wouldn't go around telling people what she knew, she… had been the one to rat them out to Hammond. The items in the envelope were obviously Cassie's. Janet was the leak. "Shit," came their timed response. Everything that followed was a bit less in sync.

* * *

General Hammond was waiting for them with Teal'c before the elevator doors opened. With the ruckus they were making, he could only assume that Daniel was in there with them. As soon as they saw their welcome party—tipped off by Walter, who was diligently monitoring the security cameras—all hell broke loose.

"Daniel, you tell me where Janet is _right now_ so I can—" she punched the wall.

"Sam, it really wasn't her fault."

"Not her fault!" Jack hollered. "Daniel, do you have any idea what she's done?"

"You mean about—"

Gen. Hammond tried to quiet them down, but no one heard him over their own raised voices.

"—she just betrayed us like that!"

"—no reason to go around flapping her—"

"Jack, it wasn't like that, I—"

"Don't cover for her Daniel! You aren't the first—"

"—miracle she kept quiet as long as she did."

"WHAT IN THE SAM HILL IS GOING ON OUT HERE?!" SG-1 and all of the personnel within earshot turned to the red-faced general. "SG-1, if you would _kindly_ move this discussion to my office..." Hammond said in the patronizing voice he reserved for his grandkids, politicians, and his 2IC. He stormed down the hall towards his office, O’Neill hot on his tail. Teal'c made his way next, followed by a sulking Carter and Daniel. "Please. Shut the door."

Once they were assembled inside and hopefully safe from prying ears, Hammond let them have it. Naturally, Teal'c was excluded from any blame, and Daniel's only crime had been delivering questionable news to Jack and Sam with his characteristically poor timing. As the only ones truly at fault, and moreover as the only members of the Air Force involved, Jack and Sam were thoroughly reprimanded and threatened, though they highly doubted that Hammond would ever follow through with his threats. "Now, I'm assuming that by ignoring my orders and showing up here this morning, the two of you have come to some sort of understanding?"

Jack looked to Sam for permission, which she freely gave him. She now understood why he'd wanted to keep these secret interrogations secret. Jack, having already anticipated this confrontation, didn't fail to disappoint. "Sir, we appreciate the opportunity and everything, and while Carter and I would hate to sound ungrateful, but we'd like to at least hear about _why_ you’ve gone through all of this trouble for us without even consulting us. What am I missing here?"

Satisfied that the colonel was capable of continuing with the conversation like any an adult, Hammond dismissed Daniel and Teal'c before inviting his officers to sit down. They did so reluctantly, worried that this was still an elaborate hoax. Jack scanned the room for cameras but saw only the one in the corner, turned off again. "I told you over the phone yesterday that you two have been throwing off the dynamic of your team, as well a significant majority of the base. The officers under my command look to your team for leadership, and lately we haven't been able to set a very good example for them. Your unique situation has not gone unnoticed, I can assure you, and I think I've been pretty lenient with you both in the past." He waited until they acknowledged that they were aware of his silent support. "After the za'tarc incident was brought to my attention, I knew that it was only a matter of time before matters escalated and you either broke the regulations or lost your minds."

"Sir, we never—"

"I know you never, Major, which is why your father and I presented this solution to the president as a reward of sorts. Despite your best intentions in maintaining professional distance in your relationship, you’ve managed to form a bond. This would have been a red flag for anyone else, but I’ve watched you both go above and beyond to prevent this attachment from interfering with your professionalism. These efforts have not been ignored, and frankly I don’t think it’s right to expect this of you any longer. You've both already sacrificed so much for your country; we didn't want your happiness to be one more sacrifice in the line of duty." Hammond surveyed the man and woman sitting before him and was struck by the picture they presented. Sam was simmering in her perceived betrayal as her eyes still shone with bridled rage, however misplaced it was. Jack, on the other hand, was doing very little to conceal his emotions. As always they complemented each other perfectly, and he was sorry he had waited so long to address the situation. He hadn't expected an overt thank you, but he also felt they were overreacting. It wasn't like they had done a good job of keeping their feelings to themselves. "Colonel? Is there something you'd like to say?"

Jack knew he was being told to keep quiet, but he was fed up with the charades. There was some hidden twist somewhere that he couldn't see. "George, what aren't you telling us. It can't be as easy as turning a blind eye, can it?"

"No, and that's why we've gone through the proper channels to keep it all above the table. I know what you're getting at Jack, but the truth of the matter is that the amount of paperwork we go through will depend upon your conduct."

"Pardon me?"

"Sir, I think what the colonel is saying is that we’d like to know what our limitations are." Sam didn't feel entirely comfortable joining in the heated discussion between her CO and the base commander, because she couldn't quite distinguish that at the moment this was Jack and George and not Colonel O'Neill and General Hammond.

Jack shook his head. "We both know perfectly well what our limitations are, Carter." The emphasis on her last name wasn't lost on anyone. "The question, _General_ , is who is still a member of SG-1 and who isn't." Sam's calm demeanor cracked and she shot him a panicked look. He was surprised she hadn’t considered the possibility of reassignment an option when she was usually the one running the numbers and weighing the possibilities.

Hammond set their minds at ease. "Neither of you are being reassigned, Colonel, unless you give me cause to do so. As I said, the amount of paperwork depends upon your conduct. Shouting matches in the hallways and other such unsavory outbursts on this world or any other will not be tolerated. The fact of the matter is that the two of you complement each other too well in the field for me to justify your separation. Based upon the restraint you've shown thus far and the attestations of your teammates, I'm confident that SG-1 will continue operating as effectively as it has in the past. That being said, I do need you to be completely honest about what happened on P3R-118 before you sign these forms."

Sam glanced from one man to the other and, seeing that Jack was doing his best to keep from throwing the chair he was fuming in, spoke up again. "Sir… My mission report was accurate. I don't understand – ."

"Major, I have in my hands reports from a half dozen separate missions in which your teammates and others have modified various accounts for the sake of constancy. I cannot publicly vouch for the two of you when I know that you have omitted potentially incriminating events from your reports." Jack murmured something under his breath. "Come again?"

Jack leaned forward in his seat. "I said 'déjà vu,' _sir_ , because I recall having a similar discussion with you and Jacob on a previous occasion, at which time you both accused me of lying."

“I’m not accusing you of anything, Jack,” Hammond said in a steady voice, “but it’s in your best interest that you not conceal anything.”

"Sir, what is it you think we're hiding?"

"We need to know what happened on that planet. You came back nearly out of your minds—."

"Those were wiped, sir."

"—and while you will not be held accountable for whatever happened, it will behoove you both to set the record straight." Despite his words, he looked genuinely pleased with himself. Neither Carter’s fury nor O’Neill’s 'pinch-me-I-must-be-dreaming' demeanor could dissuade him from enjoying the success of his plan. If they insisted that nothing happened, well, maybe he was better off _not_ knowing the details. "Very well. I'd like you to fill out the paperwork now. We've just been waiting on your signatures."

Jack and Sam leaned forward to inspect the document Hammond slid across his desk. This document, they correctly assumed, had been the 'report' that Daniel had spoken of earlier. Printed in bold letters across the head of the page were the words _As Regards the Matter of Colonel Jonathon J. O'Neill & Major Samantha E. Carter_. Skipping down the page, they saw the signatures of not only the figureheads in the plot against the two of them, but Teal’c and Daniel's names as character witnesses. Two spaces had been left for their own signatures, but Jack could no longer see straight.

" _What the hell?_ " Jack looked up, surprised that the outburst hadn't come from him. Sam was shaking again, but there was no fear of her breaking into tears this time. She was just plain pissed. "Were we the _only_ ones who weren't consulted about this?"

“If you’ll recall, we _did_ attempt to suss out the root of the problem and neither of you were what I would call forthcoming on the subject.” The black phone on Hammond's desk rang. He gave them a pointed look. "Sign the damn form and get the hell out of my office or don't sign the form and get the hell out of my office anyway." With that he answered the phone and spun around in his chair, effectively shutting them out. Jack, not bothering to read the fine print, scribbled his name on the bogus document before thrusting the pen at Sam. She added her name to his, threw a final mutinous glance at the gleaming crown of Hammond's head, and stormed out of the room, down the hall and towards the elevator. Realizing she still had the general's pen, she chucked it back towards his office.

Jack ran after her and ducked out of the way of the projectile just in time, ignoring Teal'c and Daniel and… _Janet_. Sam spied her a second after Jack and advanced on the shorter woman. She was taking a deep breath to tear the doctor a new one as Jack hoisted her into the air like a sack of potatoes and made a mad dash for the elevator. The airman inside dove out as he saw the infamous Colonel O'Neill charging toward him.

"Jack, let me go!"

His hold tightened against her flailing. "Carter, you heard what the general said about screaming in the hall. Let's wait until we get her alone topside, at least. _Then_ we can get our revenge."

"Fine." As the doors were closing, she studied Jack's back, his calves, and most importantly his backside. The jeans he was wearing fit _very_ nicely. "But I want cake."

He set her down and turned her so she faced him. "And ice cream?"

"Sure." Finding out your friends and relatives were conspiring against you with your boss in order to fix your love life was cause enough for a splurge.

Jack clapped his hands and rubbed them in excitement. "Great! Because we’re going to have an early lunch at _O'Malley's_."

"Is that so?"

"Yep. When I was afloat _out there_ ," he made a flying motion with his hand, "I had a pretty vivid dream of us having dinner at _O'Malley's_. Everything was going great until you vanished and the restaurant got rocked by a cargo ship. The whole time you were telling me to concentrate and check our air supply I was looking around for my cake."

Just like that, Sam's life made sense again. The sweet simplicity of it all screamed Jack, and she felt her anger slip away. Screw everyone else for interfering with her life. The incredibly sexy man standing in front of her had just confessed that he'd hallucinated going on a date with her as he was dying in the cold of space. No forbidden interlude in his cabin, no space ship, no gate room. He'd pictured them having a simple, honest-to-God, normal American date, and the disturbance of that imaginary date had upset him. "I suppose Janet's death can wait a few hours." If the man wanted cake, she could sure as hell get him some cake. She supposed she owed him more than that for designing the ship that nearly killed him.

Jack's answering grin was infectious.

The elevator ground to a halt at the surface, its ascension graciously unimpeded by unwelcome airmen. Jack clasped Sam's hand in his as they stepped from the tunnel and into the early morning light. He bounced alongside her, quietly singing his own version of _'We're Off to See the Wizard'_. Sam kept pace with him, eagerly anticipating what would surely be the first in a long line of steak and cake dates.

"Ohhhh, we're off to get some ice cream, along with a big-piece-of-cake. Something and something and something, oh man I want some steak!"

Jack continued making up words for his song on the short drive to the restaurant, the lines growing increasingly ridiculous in order to keep Sam laughing. Their good mood diminished as soon as they walked in and requested a table. He wasn't sure that he remembered anyone snapping Polaroids of the three of them when they were last there, but sure enough their pictures hung on the wall of shame. The hostess recognized them from their mug shots on the wall and immediately called the manager out.

"I don't care if the damages were paid for or not! The minute I see you so much as drop a napkin on the floor, you're gone. For _good_. And no pool this time. Understand?"

Jack saluted the tiny man smartly. "Yes sir. No funny business. We're just here for the food." The manager frowned in response and motioned for the hostess to seat them. As they were led to their normal table, Jack leaned closer to Sam. She jumped at his proximity, barely catching his words. "It's not fair that he blames us—Daniel's the one who started it." The hostess took their drink orders and left them to look over the menu. "So what's the plan, Sam?" He smiled at his bad rhyme.

She was so at a loss she nearly addressed him as his 2IC. "I thought the plan was to get cake and ice cream with some steak snuck in there somewhere"

"Yes, the dessert and steak are definitely happening, but what are we doing afterwards? How much do we want to draw this out?" he asked, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Plans, evil plans, were quickly developing. Tampering with any supplies in the infirmary would get them in serious trouble with not only Hammond but Janet, Keeper of Big Honkin’ Needles and Drugs Unknown to the FDA. Their revenge would result in more severe retaliation, and that wouldn't be a wise decision at all. On the other hand, tampering with something at her house would be tricky because they'd also be involving Cassie. Then again, the kid was in on it too.

They needed to formulate a systematic sweep of revenge upon everyone involved: Janet, Cassie, Hammond, Jacob and Selmak, Daniel, Teal'c, Anise and Freya, the president, Walter and Siler… Nope, that was a list of people he did _not_ want on his bad side, and they already seemed to be convinced that he'd been fooling around with Sam for a while now. Their best course of action would be to stick to Janet, as she was most likely the one who'd let the cat out of the bag in the first place, somehow tarnishing both of their reputations and getting them the go-ahead to pursue a relationship.

Sam shifted nervously in her seat as the waitress delivered their drinks. She sipped at her Diet Coke and ordered her thoughts, trying not to dwell too long on their discussion during breakfast. This was a big decision, after all. "I think the first thing we should do is establish how slow 'slow' is. Set some ground rules before we get in over our heads."

Jack agreed. “It's probably best to work out all of the details before we actually do it, so that no one will see it coming. And I figure that as long as it doesn't involve Cassie, we'll be OK. Accomplice or not, we should try and keep her out of it."

She hoped that the 'it' he was referring to wasn't the big _it_ , because _it_ was really nobody else's business. She was touched—and slightly worried—that Jack was so concerned about Cassie's reaction to their deepening relationship. "How? She's basically invested already, but you're right; I would prefer to keep the details between us."

"Right. If _anyone_ gets wind of this, they'll blab. Daniel especially."

They were both frowning in confusion, not understanding the cause of the disconnect. "I know that Daniel is perceptive, but I wasn't planning on telling him what goes on when he isn't around. Were you?"

If they saran wrapped all of the toilets and bed pans in the infirmary, there was no way word wouldn't get around. "Maybe eventually, but you're making a face, so…? Oh, c'mon, you know Janet's going to tell him as soon as it happens!"

"What? My medical exams are none of his business, and Janet can't share any of that information because of the whole doctor-patient confidentiality thing." Then again, she had told Hammond about the last secret she'd sworn to keep for them.

"What do your exams have anything to do with this? You don't think we should do something in the infirmary, do you?"

She couldn't believe he was suggesting what she thought he was suggesting, and with a straight face, at that. If he were winking or smiling or doing something slightly suggestive with his hands, then sure, she'd believe he was suggesting it. But how the hell was Jack O'Neill keeping a straight face while he was telling her, in public, that they should have sex in the base infirmary? "Of course not! I'm not an idiot, Jack."

"I wasn't suggesting you were," he said with his hands raised in the air in surrender. "I just don't see what your exams have anything to do with our revenge plans."

She choked on her drink. "Revenge plans."

He couldn't figure out where he'd lost her. "Yeah. Plans. For revenge. Against Janet. Janet Fraiser. Janet Fraiser the blabber."

"Ohhhh… Yeah that makes more sense."

"Wait—what were _you_ talking about?"

She was flushed. Her soft drink vanished as she tried to cool off, far too embarrassed to admit where her mind had been. What did it say that _she_ had been the one to go that route instead of him? "Not important. What did you have in mind?"

"No, I want to—"

The waitress appeared, cutting him off. "Do you know what you'd like to order, or would you like a few more minutes?"

"I know what I want," Sam said quickly.


	8. More Than a River in Egypt

"Sam, it's been almost two weeks."

"And?"

"And I want to know what's going on!"

"Daniel, I'm a little busy right now. Can't this wait?" She pounded the keyboard to make it look like she was in the middle of something important. The progress report on her screen wasn't going to be finished in time for her 1100 briefing unless Daniel left. Not that she was having much luck concentrating before he'd arrived, but still.

"Well, yeah. But I'm curious."

"About?"

"Why you and Jack are still avoiding each other. You haven’t even been on a real date yet."

She turned on her stool. "Who says we haven't—"

"Janet. _And_ I figured by the way you two have been avoiding each other that there’s something holding you back. Seriously, Sam, what on Earth are you waiting for?"

She pounded a few more buttons, opening up her email to discover that the meeting had been pushed back, leaving her day wide open. "We haven't been avoiding each other, Daniel. We've just been busy. Everything's fine."

"Busy."

"Yes. And for your information we _have_ been on a real date." OK, it wasn't a _real_ date because they'd spent the entire time plotting revenge and ignoring the sexual tension, but they _had_ shared dessert. That had to count as something.

"Busy with what?"

"If I recall correctly, you were with me for that little trip to Egypt," she asked over her shoulder. Daniel crossed his arms and leaned against her workbench, indicating that he wasn't going to let her bully him out of the lab with his curiosity unsatisfied. "Don't look at me like that."

"So you've talked, then."

"Just about every day, Daniel."

The tone in her voice wouldn't dissuade him. "Then why he did he take Teal’c with him to Minnesota and not you?"

"Daniel, this is between me and the colonel. Let us handle it." If she ignored him, she was sure he would go away. She tried to focus on her report, but ended up glaring at a spot on the wall just above her monitor. His silent presence was almost worse than his noisy pestering. " _What_?"

"I'm worried about you."

Although his concern melted her a little, that didn't change the fact that he was still out of line. "I know you are, and I know that everyone else cares too, but—but you can't just pretend that everything will be okay because we've been given permission to—to…"

"Date?"

"Yes!" she snapped. In moments like this she hated that her friend was so damn perceptive. He knew Sam and Jack better than anybody else, so of course he would have recognized that things had been business as usual between them with an added layer of tension.

"I don't understand. The frat regs were what kept you apart, right?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then what else do you need?"

"Time, Daniel!" Her back was still to him, so he couldn't see how hard she fought to maintain her composure. "You have no idea how hard it is for me to even talk about this, do you? The frat regs are there for a reason. Good reasons, and again and again I've had to justify their existence over the years. I can't just forget they exist or help but feel like we'd be doing something, I don’t know, something wrong. We are the same people we were two weeks ago, two people who fully planned to carry on putting their jobs first and who knew the consequences of putting our feelings first. The regs aren’t just for us, you know? It’s not about protecting our careers, or preventing quid pro quo. The regs are there to protect you, too. As a commanding officer, the colonel cannot prioritize one member of his team over another. If anyone other than General Hammond was in charge, our team would have been spilt apart months ago. Keeping SG-1 together is always going to be a priority, and I can't just turn off the part of me that believes the frat regs still hold merit."

He watched her steel herself, squaring her shoulders against an uncomfortable situation. Daniel had watched her do this countless times off-world, enough times that he knew what it meant. He hated that she did the same thing anytime someone mentioned Jack’s name to her. "Sam… you’re looking at this like you’re losing a fight. I know how hard you’ve fought to keep your feelings to yourself. Just because I wear glasses doesn’t mean I’m blind. This is more than attraction, even if you haven’t been able to fully explore how you feel yet. But don’t you see? You’ve always put the team first, and so has Jack. Acknowledging that those feelings exist doesn’t change the fact that those feelings were _already there_."

The legs of the stool squeaked against the concrete as she slumped back against her work station, swiping at the moisture accumulating in her eyes. "I don't know, Daniel. It's like I've been lying to myself for so long that I can't stop that gut reaction that comes from so many years of denial. It used to be easy, you know?" He didn't feel entirely comfortable commenting on that, because he was fairly certain that it had never been _easy_ on either of them. "And to make it worse, everyone keeps pressuring us to jump into something that we aren't sure we're ready for. This isn't as simple as 'red means stop, green means go'. I didn't just tell myself that we couldn't act on whatever we thought was going on, because that wasn't enough. You saw what happened when we were infected with the Touched virus."

"Sam, you had no control over your actions. Nobody did. That wasn’t your fault."

"Wasn't it? After that, I really had trouble pulling myself together around him. He seemed to get over it pretty quickly, and I had to convince myself that I was seeing things that weren't really there. I’m just now realizing how not-okay things have been," she said, pleading with him to understand.

He ducked over to her, crossing his arms over his chest but nudging her shoulder with his side. "I get it. Really. Your hands were tied and you had to find a way to cope." She nodded and sighed in relief. "But Sam, he really _does_ care about you, and if you know that you were lying to yourself, then I'm not sure what's holding you back."

"That's what I'm trying to tell you—whenever the thought crossed my mind that, you know, there might be something there, I told myself I was making it up. I trained myself to walk away, to avoid any situation that would create room for speculation. Four years, Daniel. No dinners, no fishing trips, no anything outside of work unless you or Teal'c or someone else was around. It's habit by this point, and the more I think about it, the more of a problem I’m realizing it is. Look," she directed, holding her bare arm up for his inspection. “I’ve got goosebumps and my hair is standing on end from this conversation alone. I can barely admit to myself that this is something I want, but telling myself that I’m allowed to want it is something else entirely.”

His brow furrowed as he nodded and stared at the floor, examining his previous observations through Sam's perspective. Their behavior after the ice planet made so much more sense, now. The others—himself included—had assumed that something of a more physical nature had occurred between his friends, even though the interactions he’d witnessed between them had been completely harmless. They'd gravitated toward each other early on during their incarceration, which definitely spoke of their strong feelings for each other. The only noticeable change in their behavior had been that they'd seemed… not happy, exactly, but comfortable. _Relaxed_. There was a warmth to their conversations that was missing now that they were back. And now, while far from being back to square one, they were still far from comfortable around each other. "Have you talked to Jack about how you feel? I would guess he’s having the same problem with the abrupt change in your relationship." What they needed, he thought, was to spend time alone together. Unfortunately, this was also exactly what they were avoiding.

"Not exactly, but I think we're on the same page as far as, well, needing the time to get reacquainted." She was breathing heavily, her emotions rushing out faster than she could voice them. This was a load she’d definitely needed to get off her chest and while she felt exhausted, she still felt better for it. If Daniel understood her, maybe she wasn't insane. Maybe everything would turn out all right.

Daniel pulled her into a bear hug, something Sam secretly loved about him. His hugs couldn't possibly compare to Jack's, but she appreciated them nonetheless. "I'm sorry. We didn't mean to pressure you into anything. Well, we did, but only because we thought you needed a push or two or twenty in the right direction. You know that I just want you to be happy, right?"

She nodded against his shoulder. "I know, Daniel, and I appreciate the support, really, but it's hard to figure out what I want when people are telling me what I should want. We only talked things through because our hands were forced. Honestly, I don't think either of us was ready for it. My heart has had it straight for a while now, but my head is still trying to catch up. Does that make any sense?"

"I guess it wasn't fair of us to expect the condensed Disney version, huh? There would be this big fight against a melodramatic bad guy, a little song and dance, and a victorious first kiss."

"Second. Don't forget the caveman thing."

His hip slipped along the metal of the workbench and he stumbled sideways. "No way! Seriously? You two haven’t—"

"Shut up, Daniel."

"Right. Anyway, the kiss fades into a wedding shot where you fly off in a jet with a 'Just Married' sign welded on the back," he said, sweeping his hand through the air to imitate a jet.

Feeling much better, Sam decided to humor him, barely registering that this banter constituted her entertaining thoughts of marrying her commanding officer. "You shouldn’t need me to point out the obvious, but the song and dance thing is a terrible idea for everyone involved."

"But we'd be animated, and they'd hire people to sing for us, so it wouldn't be a problem!" Unbidden, the image of an animated Apophis popped into his mind and he decided that he’d offer his silent support and avoid Disney-style anything.

* * *

Sam checked her watch and frowned. It was 1406 and still no sign of the colonel. Jack. God, this was difficult. Past precedent led her to anticipate his appearance in her lab with a timely invitation for lunch, claiming that it was his duty as her CO to ensure that she was properly fed and ready to work. Her stomach growled. As much as she wanted to believe that he wouldn't have gone to lunch without her, and as silly as the doubt was, she wouldn't admit to herself that she was a little upset by his absence. There was no way that she was going to turn clingy all of a sudden—that wasn't her MO. Sam didn't need Jack any more now than before. On the other hand, her conversation with Daniel came to mind, and she realized that their routine lunches were growing to be the favorite part of her day because they hadn’t spent any time alone together since O'Malley's.

Needing to fill her stomach up with something more than the motor oil in her coffee pot, Sam saved the document she was editing and flipped off the light in her lab. Scanning the hallway she caught sight of Jack jogging towards her, his arms wrapped around his stomach like he was going to hurl. "Carter, a moment please?" he asked as he disappeared into her lab. She followed him and turned the light back on. "Hey, close the door while you're at it."

"Sir, are you alright?"

He unzipped his jacket and dumped a few dozen penlights and a sandwich onto her workbench. "Yeah, I just wanted to stash these before Janet finds out. Oh, and here's lunch."

"And my lab was the most logical place to hide them." She picked up one of the instruments and clicked the light on. He unwrapped the sandwich and offered her half. There were those damn butterflies again. "Thanks. This wouldn't have anything to do with our revenge plan, would it?"

He shrugged and began dismantling one of the lights, speaking around the food in his mouth. "Maybe. I didn't really figure out what to do wif 'em."

"Then why take them?"

"Because I needed to put an end to her reign of terror, obviously. I don't think she even knows how to use these things correctly. I meant to come get you for lunch, but I had to sneak as many of these out of the infirmary as I could while Janet was on break, and then I remembered there was a whole box of them in a supply closet on that level."

"You've stolen her pens before; why am I not surprised?"

"Yeah, but back then I didn't know about the backups until about two weeks after I started. I've got another load stashed in a dusty urn high on a shelf in Daniel's office." Jack managed to extract the tiny LED bulb and held it up to the light. "Any ideas?"

Sam watched him study the bulb, though he seemed to be deep in thought. "Sure, but I don't think that—"

"I won't tell anyone you helped me. Scout's honor."

"You were a Scout?"

He shrugged. "Hell no, but I figure it's a widely abused honor anyways so they wouldn't mind me borrowing it."

"Probably not. Alright, grab that soldering tool over there, and some wire from my storage cupboard against the far wall. I'm surprised you snagged these and not the syringes." She knew he hated medical exams, but she hadn't known that penlights now outranked needles in Jack's repertoire of torture instruments. This was a new development.

Jack took the proffered cutters and began snipping out even lengths of the sturdy wire as Sam continued separating the penlight parts, dumping the extraneous pieces into a shallow bin. "I thought about it but there were too many to stuff in my jacket. Not to mention I get a headache just thinking about these little guys." She shot him a curious glance, urging him to explain. "You know how we go through a thorough exam every time we start acting crazy? Well, nobody believed we were stuck in a time loop, so…"

"Eurgh, you mean you went through a full exam every loop?"

"Yep. Even though we memorized the test results, Doc insisted. After a while we got sick of people thinking we were crazy so we took a break for, well, I'm not sure how many loops, but you get the picture. You can only get so many lights shined in your eyes before you snap."

"Hmm. What did you do in your free time?"

"Learned Latin from Daniel, taught myself to use a pottery wheel, you know, the standard stuff." Was there such a thing as standard time loop material? It had been a while since she'd watched _Groundhog Day_ , but wasn't there something about Bill Murray trying to get his co-worker into bed part of the plot? She looked up from her work and noticed that Jack was fidgeting, a clear indicator that he was withholding information. Before she could ask, Jack turned the conversation back to their science project and she forgot about the issue.

Two days later, when General Hammond was called to the infirmary about the appearance of a motion-activated disco ball constructed from the missing pen lights, the general had even more trouble than usual in tracking down his 2IC. Jack's official statement read: _I do not apologize for thanking the medical staff for their hard work with an impromptu dance party because they absolutely deserve it._

* * *

Another week passed, and another after that. Their relationship was still at a standstill and in a moment of impulse that Sam now greatly regretted, she'd invited the team over for a movie night. Daniel and Teal'c had not-so-subtly declined, and Jack had been even less subtle in suggesting that they take advantage of a night without the boys. Sam's toe tapped a nervous beat inside her shoe. She and Jack were both sitting on her couch, watching a movie she'd never heard of before and couldn't remember the name of because the movie was the last thing on her mind. True to form, she was grossly over-thinking the situation. As friends and coworkers, she had often found herself sitting next to Jack during a movie, fantasizing what it would be like if he closed the distance between them and sat with his thigh pressed against hers. Maybe he would rest his arm across her shoulders and pull her closer. Her attention drifted toward him at the thought of it and noticed he was studying her.

Caught in the act, Jack blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "This sucks."

She looked around, trying to make sense of his words. "What, the movie?"

"No. This," he said, moving his finger to indicate the two of them. "If this was a real date, we'd be all over each other and ignoring the movie by now." He slapped the space between them to emphasize his point, pretending that he'd been engrossed in the movie and not focusing instead on Sam.

"That's what I was just thinking."

"Really?" He searched her eyes, his heart sinking a little as he found the uncertainty written there. Did she want him to do something? She was too nervous to make the first move, and he was by no means confident that she wouldn't push him away if he pulled her closer. This was getting ridiculous. Since when was he nervous or self-conscious? _Only when it comes to Sam_ , he thought.

Jack inched from his side of the couch to the center cushion, closing the gap between them. Sam leaned away as he moved, not stopping until the arm rest of the couch pressed uncomfortably against her spine. He didn't want to scare her, but they had to actually _try_ at being a couple before they gave up. Nearly two months had slipped by unnoticed, and the only conclusion he'd come to was that she was delighted to see him but increasingly uncomfortable in his presence.

His heart beating wildly in his chest, Jack scooted even closer until he was barely an inch away from her. Sam's blue eyes were wide open, dancing around his face and avoiding making eye contact.

He cupped her cheek and forced her to fix her attention on him. The heat from his dark eyes, from his body, warmed Sam until she felt she was melting into the cushions. The little voice in Jack's mind—the one that sounded very much like his grandfather's intimidating bark—was strangely absent. It was the voice that should've been telling him to back away, the one that normally kept him from taking things too far. _Finally_. "Does this feel wrong to you?"

She sighed as his thumb stroked her flushed skin. When he was this close it was hard to convince herself that there was any reason for her to want to push him away. She froze. While no red flags immediately came to mind, she was still looking for them. Why was she still looking for an escape?

He saw the subtle change in her expression and backed away, groaning in frustration.

The movie played on.

 _This is stupid_ , Sam kept telling herself. _We both want this, and we're both sick of waiting. It's been_ three _weeks. I don't know how much longer I can take this. Maybe if I just…_ Her body wouldn't move. She tried telling herself to reach out and put her hand on his knee. Nope. Not even her foot would budge from where it had apparently rooted itself into the carpet.

Sam sat up a little straighter and subconsciously crossed her legs. Jack watched the whole thing with growing interest. She wanted him, but she didn't. He wanted her, knew she wanted him, yet he couldn't make himself close those final few inches because she was scared. Hell, _he_ was scared! He, a highly-trained special ops commando, was having trouble making his body obey orders. And it seemed like Sam was having the exact same problem. The only other time this had happened, Jack surmised, had been any of the number of times that they'd been taken as hosts to alien entities and literally hadn't been in control.

Once more his mind shut off and he blurted the first words that came to mind.

"I kissed you."

"What?" Wouldn't she have remembered if he had… "Oh, you mean the Dr. Samantha Carter from the parallel reality. I know. I saw it. Actually, _everyone_ saw it."

Was that jealousy in her voice? "Yeah, but that was only for her—I mean you—I mean, I was confused about that whole situation, but I felt bad and, and that's not what I was talking about anyways. I meant that I kissed YOU, as in the you sitting right here in this reality. Or maybe that's considered an alternate reality now. Alternate timeline?"

"Then why don't I remember it? I'm pretty sure that I would remember you kissing me." Her blush caught Jack's attention, her eyes were bright with interest and curiosity. He could definitely work with that.

"Uhh, well, it was during one of the time loops."

"During…?"

"Yeah."

"Really?" A moment from that debriefing came to mind. He'd been staring in her direction with an odd look on his face, like he was looking at her but not seeing _her_. He’d dodged her question at the time, and when she'd asked about it again later he hadn't given her the whole story. She wasn't sure if she should feel scandalized or flattered. Or cheated, for that matter. It wasn't fair that he had a memory of kissing THREE different versions of her—one of which was _married_ to him—when she only had one vague memory of attacking him in the locker room, which wasn’t a great memory since he’d been fighting off her advances the whole time. It wasn't fair.

Jack hadn’t meant to upset her. That hadn't been his intention in kissing her then or in telling about it now. He also had never planned on telling her he'd taken advantage of the time loop by taking advantage of her, but then hindsight was 20/20. "Listen, Sam, I wasn't really thinking when I did it. Okay, that's a lie because I actually put a lot of thought into that stunt and it took me a few loops to get it right. I _am_ sorry you're upset about it, but I thought it was my only shot at showing you how I really felt and would do it again in a heartbeat."

"Then why don't you?" she asked in a strained voice.

Was she still hurt that he had kissed her during the loop without telling her about it as soon as things were settled down? He probably shouldn't have risked it, considering how royally screwed things were between them at that point in time. Or was she angry that he was taking so long to prove to her that they stood a fighting chance? He'd been all talk so far, thinking that was what she needed from him. They’d agreed to take things slow, but maybe this was _too_ slow. Talking was never his forte, so if she needed him to be more physical, well, he could do that.

Jack stood and rubbed his hands together. "You should know that the circumstances are nearly impossible to recreate."

"I’m sure I could rig another loop device for you, if that’s what you need."

He ignored her teasing and took inventory of his outfit. It would have to do. "Okay. Pretend you're running a gate diagnostic and Hammond and Walter are doing whatever it is they do when they loiter in the control room." He ran out of the room at that point.

"Wait, I don't – "

"Play along, Carter!" he yelled from the hallway.

"Fine."

"Good, so you're working and I jog on up the stairs to the control room," he jogged into the room, "and I'm wearing Teal'c's Tuesday civies."

"You mean the yellow shirt and the beanie?"

He nodded. "So, Hammond sees me out of uniform and asks me what the hell I'm doing. I hand him some paperwork I snatched from an SF in the hall and tell him I’m tendering my resignation. At this point you jumped up and wanted to know why," he said, motioning for her to stand up. She followed his lead and stood where he indicated, just a few inches to his right. "And I double-checked my watch to make sure I had the timing right and said, 'So I can do this.'" Jack pulled her in tight against his body and dipped her. To his delight her eyes twinkled the same way they had in the loop, even though she knew what was coming this time. "Then I kissed you a second before the wormhole connected to the gate and the loop restarted. Now you can see how the circumstances are difficult to replicate."

Sam went limp in his arms, barely managing to wrap her arms around his neck to pull him closer. This was it. She was finally going to kiss Jack of her own volition, as her own self, and without the impending knowledge that she would forget kissing him or feel obligated to repress the memory later. He held back though, taking the time to memorize her face as if he hadn't spent the majority of the past four years staring at her. His eyes finally met hers and she realized that he was waiting for her to reciprocate. In all of her fantasies there had been no resisting him, mostly because she imagined he'd be slightly forceful with her. She hadn't pictured herself leaping across the briefing table after him… and the few times that she had he'd still been the one to initiate a kiss. If she was going to prove her determination to make their relationship work, now was the time.

Just as Jack began wondering how much longer he could support her before his back screamed out a protest, or how much longer he should wait for her to respond, Sam captured his lips with hers and he fell. Literally. His bad knee buckled and he dropped Sam before they both toppled to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Her arms wrapped around his neck prevented him from diverting his descent to prevent from squashing her, but he did manage to catch most of his weight on his good knee and his hands while Sam successfully steered her knees away from his more sensitive bodyparts.

Jack always suspected that he’d faint if Carter ever made a move on him, but this was much more embarrassing.

Their eyes met and the pain quickly faded into a delicious heat that spread too quickly to comprehend. Blinded by the emotions threatening to overwhelm them, they rearranged themselves into a more comfortable position and locked lips in a kiss that would've knocked them over if they hadn't already gotten that part out of the way. What did Sam care about a sore shoulder when Jack was clutching it, trying to pull it into his own body? She could barely feel the floor beneath them, let alone the pain from the fall. He nudged his knee between her legs and pressed against her, refusing to allow any space between their bodies. Her head spun, trying to make sense of what was happening. Shirts were quickly rucked up and hands eagerly explored bare flesh. The burning in her lungs was nothing compared to finally _finally_ having his hands on her.

When Jack pulled away for air, she assumed that her hands were responsible for the disheveled state of his hair. His brown eyes were impossibly darker than usual, and his lips were stretched to the limit in a wide grin. Sam was sure her appearance matched his in all aspects, her doubts and worries shot to hell and long forgotten. "This didn't happen in the loop. Too bad I waited until the last minute, or I would've been able to really give George a heart attack," he said, dipping his head down to kiss along her jaw line. Sam moaned her approval. "Mmmm you taste good."

He moved against her again and the rapid beat of her heart kicked into double-time. She chooked her leg around his and moved against him in return. “Remind me why we waited so long to do this?” she moaned into his ear.

She whispered his name and he started wondering the exact same thing. He had anticipated that pinning Sam to the floor would go something like this, but to actually experience it… there were no words. He didn't like words much anyways, especially considering that between the motion of her pelvis and her hands on his back and in his hair he was basically incapable of producing anything beyond base, guttural sounds that would have embarrassed him if Sam hadn't been equally as vocal.

Sam happily abandoned rational thought and wrapped her other leg around him, locking her ankles to trap him firmly against her. Some small, tiny partition of Jack's mind registered this and he tried to pull away. Something was wrong here, but he couldn't pin it down when she was touching him like _that_.

There was something they weren't supposed to be doing… Or maybe it was…

"Sam," he tried to mumble before she launched another assault on his open mouth with her tongue. She ignored him and moved her attention to the underside of his jaw. Her chest was heaving against his. He tried propping himself up on his hands and knees again, but she clung to him with everything she had. " _Sam_."

"Mmmm Ja-ack…"

 _Holy SHIT_ but that was hot. _No! Bad Jack!_ "You… We sh-should… stop… mmm," he moaned against her mouth as he nearly gave in. Suddenly desperate for even a millimeter of space between them, Jack did his best to pry her legs away to free himself. Sam, mistaking his hands on her thighs as encouragement, wrapped her arms around his neck once more and pulled him closer. Jack's knee began to ache, and the slight twinge of pain helped to clear his mind enough to get her attention. "Carter!"

"Sir?" She loosened her grip just enough for him to wiggle free of her. The happy tingly feeling that had since replaced his bones ensured that he didn't get very far, though—he flopped onto the floor next to her and tried to get his breathing under control.

Sam’s brain was slowly beginning to work again, struggling to formulate a logical explanation for Jack to have pulled away like that. "Ja – Jack?" Yes, breathing was essential to this plan. She heard Jack panting beside her and rolled towards him, startled by what she encountered.

This was certainly Jack O'Neill, the man she'd been dreaming about for the past… well, for a long time. This was her CO and her friend, the man she'd faced and defied death with on numerous occasions., the man she'd been struggling to push from her mind for too long. There was no doubt that he was definitely _Jack_.

But he was smiling up at the ceiling in a way that made her want to straddle him and kiss him senseless all over again. He was happy, happier than she'd seen him in a long time. The few smiles he'd given her had been sarcastic or tinged with a sad resignation, half-repressed and barely hinting at what the real thing would look like. Hell, Jack was ecstatic. With his knees bent and his arms crossed over his chest, one hand on his racing heart, Sam knew that she would do whatever she could to see him this way more often.

And holy Hannah, they hadn't even had sex yet. "Jack?"

His head lolled sideways so he could see her better, his eyes crinkled and one side of his mouth curled up in a heart-wrenching grin. "Hmmm?"

"Everything all right?" she asked, more than a bit smug.

His grin grew, showing teeth this time. "Just fine. You?" His right arm flopped to the floor as he reached for her, barely questioning the move.

Sam, unable to resist him, bit her lip as she placed her hand in his and responded. "Good, I suppose."

"You suppose?"

"Well, I was _really_ good… and then you moved all the way over there…"

They’d known each other long enough for him to recognize that tone and he couldn't help but slide over to pull her into his arms again. They both inhaled deeply, taking in each others' scent and the way they fit together so perfectly. Jack positioned her so that Sam rested at his side with her head propped on his chest. "I—Sam, I moved away _because_ you were really good." That earned him a giggle. "But we agreed to take it slow, didn't we? I'd like to make out like this at least a few more times before we lay off the brakes."

More giggling. "You want to go at it on the floor some more?"

"No. I mean yes. I mean, it doesn't really matter where we do it, just as long as we do it. A lot."

"Does this only apply to making out?" She punctuated her question by hooking a leg around his.

"Uhh, no, not necessarily." They lay there for a bit until Jack was struck by the familiarity of their position. Sam wasn't asleep, but her breathing indicated she was perfectly content to stay there with him until someone moved her. "Carter, while we're clearing the air… I do have another confession to make."

"Hmmm?" Yeah, she was definitely not planning on moving anytime soon.

He rubbed her arm to help keep her awake. "In Antarctica. That wasn't my sidearm."

"I know," she sighed into the crook of his neck. Sam was too comfortable in the foggy state between sleep and consciousness, even if they were lying on the itchy carpet. She tightened her arms around him and burrowed her face into his sweater, loving the way it made Jack sigh in response. "We would have been fine in our separate blankets, too."

"I know." They lay there for some time, happy to bask in the type of embrace they'd never allowed themselves before. "I love you, by the way."

She giggled, and Jack found himself responding in ways that he was convinced were disproportionate to the sound. "I know, but I'm glad you finally got around to telling me."

"Well, gee. Glad to know you feel the same way too, Sam."

"Hey, I married you in an alternate reality, didn't I?"

"No, _she_ married _him_. She wasn't you and I wasn't him. That's what that kiss was—letting go."

Sam propped herself up so she could look down at him. "For who?"

Despite the cut, her short locks were in complete disarray and begging for further dishevelment. He grinned when he realized that he didn't have to fight the urge to run his hands through her hair. As soon as his fingertips reached her scalp her eyelids drooped. " _Whom_. And like I said, she wasn't you. I knew that from the start, but it took her a little longer to figure that out. Which reminds me of something I wanted to ask you about. Don’t worry, it's not related," he told her in response to the funny look on her face. "Hey, can we get off the floor first?"

Nodding, Sam lifted herself off of Jack and offered him a hand, which he begrudgingly accepted. His knee popped in protest, but he hadn't tweaked it as badly as he'd originally thought. Thinking he had something serious he wanted to discuss, she put some distance between them on the couch but found herself cradled in his lap before she had time to question it. Now that they'd crossed the touching threshold, neither was eager to let the other go. He dipped in for another kiss, slow and deep enough to make her head spin. "Hmm, you wanted to ask me something?"

"It can wait," he said, his hands spanning the middle of her back.

"I love you, too, Jack."


	9. It's Just Fishing

Before the couple had time to consider scheduling a weekly date night, the job got in the way again. Sam was pleased that her father was the one to request their assistance in reprogramming the space mine—despite the way he condescendingly agreed to allow Jack to tag along—and wondered if he hadn't used the joint mission as an excuse to see how his bet was paying out.

Sam may not have noticed, but Jack found the harassment amusing and he gave back as much as he got because he knew exactly what was going on. When he wasn't harping on Jack's piloting, Jacob looked like that cat that caught the canary. It was laughable, the way that the older man felt the need to intimidate the guy after everything he'd done for them. It was almost like he was trying to save face, to play the imposing dad-figure instead of that of the accomplice. The razzing was a lot more enjoyable now that he didn’t have to hide how he felt for Sam.

And if she caught her father biting back a smile when Jack called him “Dad,” she would keep that to herself.

After rescuing Teal'c and heading back to Earth, Sam had been too tired to do anything but crash on Jack's couch when they returned to his place. She’d left the crossover vehicle she'd bought in his driveway and decided to take advantage of the fact that she no longer had to worry about people keeping track of her location after hours. Jack meant to at least move her to the guest room, but the moment he stepped foot in his bedroom he was unable to fight the beckoning call of his bed. He didn't bother undressing before passing out on top of the covers, out like the dead until he heard someone bumping around in the hallway early the following morning.

Sam had blushed as Jack caught her trying to sneak out unnoticed, but was coerced into staying for breakfast. They didn't have to be back on base until later in the day, so she had plenty of time to head back to her place, shower, and then meet Jack for lunch. He insisted on buying, and held her hand in his beneath the table while they ate. When their waitress lingered over the tab, apparently fascinated by Jack’s ability to drink water from a glass, Sam brushed her foot up the inside of his calf.

Spluttering, he just barely managed to divert the stream of water that spewed from his mouth away from Sam. The waitress wasn’t so lucky.

Teal'c chose not to comment on their tandem arrival at the briefing. He also chose to engage Daniel in conversation just as the archeologist's face scrunched up, betraying his brain going into overdrive. Jack took advantage of Daniel's distraction and pulled out a seat for Sam, smirking at her surprise.

Yeah, this could work.

The briefing went smoothly for the first time in what felt like months. Jack cracked inappropriate jokes, Sam ignored him and pretended she was not amused, Daniel yelled at Jack, and Teal'c sat there like none of this was anything but normal. Nobody was overly concerned by the prospect of covertly exploring another planet occupied by the Goa'uld because they were SG-1 and life was good.

This behavior did not go unnoticed by General Hammond. The team dynamic had stabilized once more and he couldn't be more thankful to whatever higher being was pulling the strings. Oh, right—the higher being was him. Not only was his flagship team back in working order, but the fruit of his co-conspirators' labor was beginning to pay off. He wasn't deluded enough to believe that it would be smooth sailing from that point on, but he knew that everything would work itself out.

Jack wasn't sure, but he thought he caught the general smiling at some point.

Sam hung around after the briefing to get a better idea from Daniel about what instruments she should prep for the mission. Rather than stick around and tune out the technobabble, Jack headed for her lab. It wasn't like he had anything better to do. That is, until Teal'c suggested that it would behoove them both to visit the training facilities, which basically meant that Jack was going to get knocked on his ass again. He couldn't think of an excuse that didn't involve waiting around for Carter and agreed.

They sat on a bench near the training mats, strapping on their gear. Rather, Teal'c put on his gloves and waited as Jack strapped on a layer of protective padding. "You are looking well, O'Neill."

He looked up from fumbling with the chin strap. "You're not looking too bad yourself, T. What's up?"

"I was hoping that you would tell me."

"I'm afraid I don't—"

"Unless I am mistaken, something has transpired between you and MajorCarter."

"Yeah, I guess you could… I mean no, nothing like that, it's just…" He searched Teal'c's eyes to see if he understood what he _wasn't_ going to tell him. Talking about it with Sam was bad enough, but talking about it with Teal'c was slightly unnerving. Like any time he'd seen Teal'c get close to a woman. Eugh. "You know how it is. You can get close without actually, well, getting _close_."

"You mean to say that you have not yet consummated your relationship."

"No, no, definitely have not done,” Jack flapped his hand around, “that!"

"… Your slow progression upsets you?" Jack narrowed his eyes at Teal'c's raised eyebrow. "Or perhaps you would prefer to not to elaborate upon this matter any futher."

"I—frankly, Teal'c, it doesn't matter whether I—we—it ain't any of your business what—"

"I am sorry, O'Neill, but I did not believe you would be so sensitive on this subject. You and MajorCarter—"

"AH!" he warned. "There's ears all over this base, and I'm tired of people prying."

"I apologize. It was not my intention to pry."

Jack kept his face down as he strapped on his gloves. He knew that everyone was doing their best, or _trying_ to do their best, to give him and Sam space to do their own thing. Their team especially could pick up on significant changes in each others' lives without actually knowing the cause of the changes. It was only natural that they were curious, and it wasn't fair of Jack to think that they could keep their relationship to themselves. "No, you aren't prying. It's just—we're still trying to get used to all of this. Talkin' about it. Out loud. Like it's normal."

Teal'c cocked his head to the side. "Are you saying that it is abnormal for you to pursue a relationship with MajorCarter?"

"…Well, yeah, I guess that's it. Under normal circumstances we _shouldn't_ be allowed. After that brain scan thing? It’s a miracle SG-1 wasn’t split up, what with me and Sam nearly killing ourselves over each other and the rest of you helping cover it up. It's almost like we're cheating or something." Jack touched his gloves together, enjoying the pliability of the padding. "If we were stationed anywhere else…"

Teal'c stood and motioned for Jack to prepare himself for their sparring session. "If you were anywhere else, then your world would have fallen long ago. That, or you would have retired for the sake of ridding yourself of the regulations that have kept you apart for so long. In such circumstances as these, I believe the Tau'ri have a saying about examining the teeth of equines."

"Looking a gift horse in the mouth?"

"Perhaps you should accept the gift you’ve been given and be grateful. You and MajorCarter compliment each other well. Together you are fierce and loyal and I am proud to call your friends, however abnormal your courtship may be." He gave a low nod, signaling that their conversation was finished, before he raised his fists. "Let us begin." The last thought flitting through Jack's mind was that he hadn't sparred with his friend since that armband testing. When he'd KO'd Teal'c.

 _Shit_.

* * *

"Teal'c did _not_ call me a horse," Sam laughed incredulously.

Jack winced away from the ice pack she held to his cheek. "No, Sam, he was being metaphorical."

"And the horse is…?"

"The horse is us."

"So it takes both of us to make one horse?"

"Four legs."

"And no arms?"

"Why are you being so literal right now? If you hadn’t noticed, I am _in pain_ ,” he groaned dramatically.

"You’ve had worse. Maybe he meant that I was the one that shouldn't be checking your teeth."

"Is that a, 'Jack is old' crack, or a 'Jack is an old jack-ass'?" He watched her grab another slice of pizza from the coffee table and avoided eye contact, trying to keep from laughing. "That's what I thought. You’re a terrible nurse. Have I ever told you that?"

She shrugged and patted his knee, wincing apologetically as Jack jumped away from her touch. "I'm sorry, but maybe next time around you should think twice about trying to out-box a Jaffa."

"Hey, I didn't think he'd come after me like that, what with the whole torture thing we just busted him out of. I mean, the guy had like four broken ribs or something, and he still can't see well out of his one eye."

"You went easy on him, didn't you?"

"Broken ribs. Swollen eye. The last thing he needed was me knocking him around. Of course I went easy on him!"

"That was your mistake." He acquiesced with a slight nod and settled himself into a comfortable position on the couch, his head in Sam's lap while she finished her dinner. When she was done he dozed off for a bit under the sinful sensation of her fingers combing through his hair. Sam nudged him awake some time later, quietly explaining that it was time for her to head home. "You need sleep. I need sleep."

"Well if we're both going to sleep, why don't we do it together?"

It was a completely innocent question, but Sam was already decided. She swiftly placed a cushion under his head and stooped down to kiss his aching forehead. "Take some more Tylenol, and I'll see you in the morning. Remember, we're supposed to be there early."

"Right. Another 'save the natives' mission. If it goes well, would you like to go see a movie on Saturday?" He couldn't remember the last time he'd gone to a movie theater like a normal person. Wasn't that what people did for a date? "I'll even let you pick out some candy to go with your popcorn," he said around a yawn.

The megawatt smile she shot his way made his heart stop for a few seconds. "If you insist. Do you know what's out right now?"

"Not a clue. You?"

"I have no idea. The Goa’uld Gazette doesn’t have a Tau’ri entertainment section."

"We’ll pick something when we get there, then."

The mission did not go smoothly. In fact, the mission went so poorly it resulted in General Hammond’s resignation. SG-1 was floored, unable to comprehend how a single mission could alter their lives so drastically. They'd screwed up before, but for the most part those failures hadn't affected the future of the entire program. None of it made any sense, and Jack couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong with Hammond's replacement, General Bauer.

Sam was too shocked by her new assignment—building naquadah enhanced bombs, of all things—and under too much pressure from their new boss to assist Jack with his investigation. With Teal’c and Daniel tied up, the colonel was forced to turn to the one being on Earth he despised as much as the Goa'uld: Harry Freakin' Maybourne. Over the next few days Daniel, in his reduced position as 'consultant,' served as a message conduit between the former SG-1 while Sam slaved away in her lab, Teal'c patsy'd for Bauer, and Jack did his best to get to the root of the problem.

Hammond was reinstated quickly to the delight of everyone involved in the SGC, and as thanks he promised his flagship team an easy survey mission. Jack, however, wanted to get away. Preferably with Sam, but she was still strangely reluctant to take a trip to his cabin. Not that he wanted to rush her, but he was certainly looking for any excuse to steal some time for them to be alone together. He was convinced that the only way they would be able to have a real date would be to leave Colorado. His on-going “curling” bet with Daniel had absolutely nothing to do with it.

Then Daniel nearly dove off of his balcony and the team landed itself an extended three-week stay in a seaside pleasure palace for a mandatory detox.

* * *

Daniel watched nervously as Jack started throwing their gear around to make room for the supply shipment. Sam had wanted to check the ocean for possible fresh food alternatives, but it looked as though they would be living on MREs for the next few weeks because they seriously doubted that Jack's request for McDonald's would make it past Walter.

"Hey, Jack?" he began, wondering if should press his luck now or wait for someone else to state the obvious. Jack muttered something beneath his breath as he unzipped the tents to pull out the mosquito netting. "I was just wondering why we're keeping all of the gear and supplies and everything in here with us when we could leave it near the light room or something. Teal'c mentioned wanting to set up a place to Kel'no'reem."

"Daniel, we still don't know if there are creepy-crawlies around here. It's a good idea for us to keep everything close and contained, just in case. Loran didn't survive here by eating sand."

"Exactly my point. Has he mentioned hiding from any creatures or hostile people since we've been here?"

"No…" He turned to Teal'c, looking for backup. The Jaffa was seated on a storage crate, observing the exchange with mild amusement. He was the only one who wasn’t required to be here, which made Jack wonder if they weren’t a new spectator sport for him. "You don't usually mind meditating with us around."

He surveyed the room, concluding that it would be near impossible to adequately Kel'no'reem with the four of them sharing close quarters. For three weeks. "Perhaps it would be wise to utilize this structure to the fullest extent. There are an exceptional number of vacant rooms, and we've been given no indication of hostile life forms in the area. As you said, if Loran has survived independently for as long as we surmise, it is highly unlikely that anything untoward should result from our… separation.”

Jack massaged his temples, a clear sign that he should probably give in to their suggestion. If everything went according to plan they wouldn't experience any additional withdrawal symptoms, but he was certain that if he or Daniel—both without anything productive to do—would try to kill the other if they were stuck in this room for more than a week.

"Teal'c's right. This place is huge. We could take advantage and spread out a bit. There's no reason to, you know, invade each others' privacy if we don't need to," Daniel reasoned, his eyes adopting an innocent expression that never failed to remind Jack of a dog he’d had growing up.

"Yeah, you've got a point. As long as we don't find any freaky toys lying around, we should be alright. But we should try and stay close," he added as Daniel rushed to grab his bags—which were conspicuously still packed—and dashed from the room. Likewise, Teal'c picked his belongings out of the pile and followed Daniel.

Alone, Jack examined the remnants of their supplies. It didn't make sense to continue organizing their stuff if everyone was moving out, so he figured this was no longer a priority and abandoned his project. Teal'c and Daniel would no doubt be back for extra supplies, and Sam still needed to get her things. In order to feel at ease about splitting up, Jack would wait to see where everyone else settled before he staked out a centralized spot for himself. Just because they were going to relax a bit didn't mean that he was going to let his guard down. His team was still his primary responsibility and he liked being able to keep track of them. It was no secret that Sam and Daniel had a tendency to wander away for prolonged periods of time.

He found Sam and the kid walking along the beach, headed back towards the palace. Sam's brow was furrowed, most likely because they'd wandered out of range of the device and she'd developed a headache as a result. Then again, her current discomfort could also have resulted from the strange look Loran was giving her. The sight of Jack cheered her, though, and she jogged ahead to meet up with him at his wave. "So? What's the verdict?"

"Sir?"

"Find anything edible?"

Her face contorted, but the kid spoke up before she was able to explain. "I showed Sam the rock I like to sit on when I fish, and the clams I collect."

Standing behind Loran’s back where he couldn't see her, Sam sliced her hand through the air by her neck and exaggeratedly mouthed to Jack, ' _They are NOT clams!_ ' She didn't look happy.

"You have to be careful, though,” Loran continued, “because the shells are very soft and the meat tends to pop out everywhere." He looked back and forth between the adults. "Should I go back and get some more for dinner?"

"Ah… No, no. Whadya think, Carter—PB and J alright with you?"

"Sounds great, sir," she replied a little too enthusiastically.

Loran didn't notice the silent conversation going on around him and shrugged at the suggestion. Jack clapped a hand on his shoulder and steered them back inside. Chances were that if the kid was mistaken about the clams he'd been eating, the fish were likewise not to be trusted. "Alrighty then. Hey, maybe we'll get a chance to go fishing tomorrow!" The squint of Sam's face affirmed his suspicions. He squeezed her arm and winked, a silent reassurance that he had her back and they'd talk later. If the device wasn't the cause of her headache, the kid most likely was. "You know, Loran, Teal'c doesn't really like fishing, and Daniel could probably use some help translating the notebooks your parents left behind. Maybe you could help them tomorrow while Sam and I get acquainted with that fishing spot?"

"I… Yeah, I'd like that." Unsure of what to do with himself, the kid shot them both a big smile, glanced nervously at Sam, paled slightly, and ran up the flight of stairs that led to his room.

"Huh. Being outside still freaks him out? Hey, Carter? You alright?"

She was blushing furiously, but she nodded. "Sorry, sir, I just, umm…"

"Yeah, I saw it. Poor kid doesn't know what hormones are. I guess it doesn't help that _you_ happen to be the first woman he's seen since he hit puberty."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Jack pulled her hands from her hips and replaced them with his after wrapping her arms around his neck. She leaned into him without a second thought. "I thought we already established that all of the alien guys we meet have the hots for you."

That really did nothing to make her feel any better. "Jack… Maybe someone should—."

"No, no, no! I am NOT giving him ‘the talk.' Daniel's the archeologist. He should do it. We'll just make sure we don't leave you alone with the kid from now on."

"I can handle myself, you know." She pulled him closer anyway, eliciting a chuckle.

"Oh, believe me, I know. It's _him_ I'm worried about. In other news, Daniel has brought it to my attention that _some_ of us may appreciate what little privacy we can get while we're here, so he and Teal'c are currently picking out their own rooms. You know, so we don’t all kill each other." He felt her tense up and wondered if she didn't feel comfortable with the idea of sleeping so far away from the rest of her team. He certainly didn't blame her.

"Oh,” she finally said. “And you?"

"I was gonna wait for you to pick a room before I settle in." She gave him another look. "What? I have to protect you from sexually repressed aliens, don't I?" _Her head must be killing her_. "Tell you what: I'll take care of dinner so you guys can move and make yourselves at home. I'll unpack later tonight." He gave her arm another squeeze, told her to take her time, and was out of sight before she was able to make sense of the conversation.

She had a fairly good idea what he had in mind. If the fishing quip hadn't clued her in, the fact that he was waiting to move his stuff until after _she_ picked a room solidified it. Shaking her head, Sam made her way to the lower entrance and stooped to shake the sand out of her boots. Blue goop—the remnants of a "clam" she'd stepped on—clung to the sole. She must've misunderstood him. They had agreed to take things slow _and_ they were technically still on a mission. Then again, they had completed the mission and were simply, what, in transit? Daniel was going to enjoy the stay because of the intricate writing he'd discovered on the walls of a few rooms. As for herself, there weren't any devices she felt comfortable toying with, not when they'd finally figured out how to turn the opiate device off. Boredom was going to rear its ugly head soon, but was the best solution for her and Jack to shack up?

* * *

Jack and Teal'c spent most of dinner explaining the finer points of hockey to Loran, though in his travels with his parents he'd never seen ice or snow before and he had trouble grasping the concept of frozen water in the first place. They also discovered that Loran was still reluctant to try anything out of his comfort zone. He absolutely refused to try the sandwich Jack made for him, instead settling for the "clam stew" he had stashed in his room.

Sam gagged when she saw the blue goo and set her mind to planning another team night, per Cassie's request. Anything to take the team’s focus off of what Loran was slurping. "There are a few movies she mentioned wanting to watch, but Janet and I were thinking that we should, you know, get her out of the house. She hasn't slipped up in public in a long time, so we're thinking it would be a good idea to take her somewhere with more people, somewhere she doesn't have to sit still."

"What do you suggest, MajorCarter?" The side-eye he threw at Loran’s bowl was something to behold.

"She really enjoys jumping off of swings in the park, so I think she may like to try out some roller coasters."

"Yes!" exclaimed Jack, thoroughly anticipating a trip to an amusement park. "That's a great idea. Kids love roller coasters."

"Except, of course, for the kids that's don't."

"Aww, c'mon Daniel. This is Cassie we're talking about, not you."

"What's a roller coaster?"

Daniel dropped out of the conversation to explain the basic principle to Loran, curious to discover if other planets had amusement parks.

Teal'c expressed a desire to accompany them on their outing. "Only the Tau'ri would devise a transport vessel exploiting their lack of inertial dampeners for the purpose of unsettling one's stomach."

"It's called _fun_ , Teal'c. Man, I haven't been on a coaster since—well, anyway, this time I'll get to go on the big-kid rides." Taking another bite of his sandwich, Jack stared out a nearby window at the sunset.

Sam wasn't sure what to say. He'd never spoken to her about Charlie. Or Sara. Likewise, knowing what she knew, she'd never felt comfortable bringing up the subject for fear that he'd think she was prying into his personal life. Normally in this type of situation she would pretend not to notice his discomfort, but it occurred to her that this was another bag they needed to open up together. Not now, but soon.

Resolving to talk to him about it sometime during their stay, Sam noticed that Teal'c was gathering the trash from their meal. "Let me. I'll clean up." He nodded his thanks and offered a farewell before heading off to his room. Daniel followed his lead, telling Loran they should talk more in the morning. The kid was excited, for once feeling knowledgeable around the strange group of adults.

"Fair dreams, Jack. Sam."

Jack snapped back to attention and waved. "Goodnight, Loran. Alrighty, I'm going to… Umm, Carter? Where's my stuff?" Jack spun around, searching the room for the bag he knew he'd left in the corner. In fact, all but the food crates were missing.

"I already took care of it. Room's down one floor, third door on the right." She wouldn't make eye contact and busied herself cleaning up the dinner mess. Confused, Jack moved to help. "Ah ah ah; you cook, someone else cleans up. Shoo! I'm almost done anyway."

He did as he was told, still unsure what had provoked Sam to unpack his things. Maybe she'd misunderstood him earlier. Still, he couldn't help but grin at the way she bossed him around. It had taken the better part of four years for him to get her to drop her strict adherence to remaining his subordinate _at all times._ One of the reasons that their team functioned so well together was that Teal'c and Daniel weren't bound by military ranks. Most of the time they listened to him, but not they didn't blindly obey him as Sam had initially done. Their insubordination, in turn, had encouraged Sam to express her own opinions when she disagreed with him. She still obeyed on the few occasions when he _had_ pulled rank, but also recognized that he valued his teammates expressing opinions they knew he wouldn’t like.

As far as field work was concerned, Jack and Sam knew where they stood with each other. Lately, Jack had been worried that she would continue to view him as her superior when they were off duty. He could still count the number of times she'd called him anything other than 'sir' or 'colonel.' If she was up to bossing him around over dishes while they were off world, he knew they were still heading in the right direction.

Upon reaching to the doorway to his room, Jack's newfound confidence was put to the test. In the center of the floor was a lantern, the light of which barely illuminated the dark corners of the room. The window on the opposite wall afforded a magnificent view of the beach, currently bathed in the pale, receding light of the setting sun. This floor was high enough that he could barely make out the soothing sound the waves made as they lapped against the shoreline, but it wasn't until later that Jack was able to acknowledge the benefits of the room because all he was aware of at the moment was the fact that on either side of the lantern was a sleeping bag, spaced about a foot apart from each other. His gear was piled atop the crates housing Sam's equipment in the nearest corner. The mosquito net he'd searched for earlier was folded by the lantern, waiting to be hung.

Jack was still frozen in the doorway when Sam arrived. She waited for him to acknowledge her, eventually tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention. He jumped and yelped, a reaction she'd never anticipated from him. Wait, was he blushing? Amused, she quirked an eyebrow and stepped around him into the room to claim the sleeping bag nearest the window. She knew he'd want to be between her and the doorway.

"Uh, Sam?"

"Hmm?"

He ran his hand over his head and searched the ceiling for answers. Surprise, they weren’t there. "What's going on?" He pointed to the other sleeping bag. "Not that I, well, I mean I didn’t think—."

She patted his bag and scooted back to her own. "Relax, sir. Separate sleeping bags. I didn't have time to get the cots set up because I think Daniel took that crate to his room. Just, I don't know. What you said earlier got me thinking."

"No duh!" He regretted the sarcasm the moment he opened his mouth, so he lowered himself down to join Sam on her bag rather than his. "Sorry. I guess I thought we were on the same page about all of this, so I'm a little confused."

Sam nodded, glad that she'd guessed _that_ reaction correctly. "That's why I wanted to talk. We said slow, but I don't know if your slow and my slow are the same speed. When you were talking about fishing tomorrow, and people needing privacy, I thought maybe…" She trailed off, letting her eyes convey the rest of the message.

"No, Sam, no. That thought didn't even cross my mind. Look, I'm sorry if I pressured you at all, or—." He was so visibly concerned and apologetic, Sam couldn't let him finish.

She laughed and grabbed his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "You haven't, and you won't. The only pressure is stemming from the other people inserting themselves into our personal lives. I know this isn't what you meant when you told me to get settled in, but for as long as we've been—wow, dating sounds really embarrassing, but you know what I mean—well, we haven't really gotten a chance to really _be_ together. I mean, it's taken us four months to accumulate a total of three dates. Not that I care about fancy dinners or anything, but, well, we've had to cancel our plans for the past month, and we had plans for tomorrow night… I don't know. I guess I think it's something we should address, but I have no idea what to say."

"C'mere." She eagerly relaxed into his side, still amazed that there had ever been a time when she'd felt guilty about allowing themselves this simple comfort. "We can still do date night, you know." She laughed into his shoulder. "Sure! We can go fishing tomorrow, and—hey, I meant _actual_ fishing, out in the ocean, with rods, and, and, and it's not _that_ funny!"

Sam was curled up by this point, clutching her side. "You forgot to mention fishing nets for the little swimmers!"

"Carter!" he barked in vain. Her laughter was contagious and soon he was collapsed beside her, waiting out the momentary insanity. "I don't know if this is going to work out. You, Major, have a pretty dirty mind."

"Don’t act like you weren't thinking the same thing."

"Well, sure, but I didn't say it _out loud_. Try showing some restraint, every once in a while. I changed my mind. I think I'm gonna fish alone." Sam snorted, apologized, and succumbed to yet another giggle fit. "That's it. I give up," he growled, tackling her from his seated position onto the sleeping bag.

She allowed him to pin her to the floor and moaned as he settled his weight over her, losing herself to the heat of his hands and languorous kisses. Sam's hands fisted in his shirt as she tried to pull him closer. She arched up against him but a hand trailed down her body to her hip, pressing her back against the floor while his other hand teased the skin beneath the collar of her shirt. Each time she opened her mouth to him to deepen their kiss he pulled back for a split second and began again, determined to remain in control.

His slow ministrations stoked the fire blazing beneath her skin. Her legs were too weak to break from the cage of his body, desperate to wrap around his thigh to pull it closer. Her chest heaved with heavy breathing, brushing her breasts against his chest. The friction only served to torment her further as the pulsing between her legs became impossible to ignore. Sam couldn't remember a time she'd been so turned on, and yet Jack was barely touching her. His lips were soft against hers but demanded her full attention. For once the guilt was blessedly absent and she was able to focus entirely on the way her body cried out for more of him. Needing air, Sam eventually broke away, though it was obvious she had no intention of releasing her death grip on his shirt.

His hands had snaked around her, beneath her tee, and he nuzzled her neck. "I don't want to change rooms," he groaned against her skin.

"Then don't."

He rolled to his back, pulling Sam with him so she was wrapped around his side. “I should, though." A dozen excuses ran through his brain, but he settled on the truth. Sam could handle it. She had to. "I meant it when I said I'm in this for the long run."

"I know." She curled against him, tucking her head beneath his chin.

"It's more than doing this right, too. Sam if we… well, that's it. You know?" He read in her face that she obviously didn't know. "Look, I could care less if we get married, have a couple of kids, live in a trailer full of cats… whatever. Somehow it's like labels don't really mean anything. I mean, you're not a girlfriend, you're—you're Carter. You're _Sam_ ," he said, the inflection making her blush at the emotional weight he managed to pack in her otherwise bland name, "and whatever you see happening for us, I'm in. Plain and simple. You know that, right?"

"Of course I do. Jack… where's this coming from? I was just talking about—."

"I know you were _just_ , and that's what I'm trying to get at. Sam, there is no _just_ anything for me. It’s not _just_ attraction, it won’t be _just_ sex, and well, there is _just_ not going to be a way to get rid of me. I really don't think I'll be able to turn back." Up until this point he'd done his best to play it cool, to downplay how deep he was in here. He still couldn't shake the feeling that this was too much for them, too much too fast, and he'd wanted to hold back for fear he'd overwhelm her.

The problem was that the more Jack tried to slow things down, the more he was realizing that he didn't _want_ to slow things down. He wanted more, despite knowing that more, logically, needed to wait for a bit. The confession had been there in every look he gave her from the moment she found him sprawled out face-down in his back yard and lately he felt like he'd been lying to her by keeping the words to himself. Words were somehow more permanent and less stable all at once; some you couldn't take back, and others were too easy to brush off. Now that he'd finally gotten it off of his chest he could breathe easier, but he figured it would be best to give Sam time to process what he'd said. Assuming he'd been coherent enough for her to fully understand.

Sam didn't trust herself to speak just yet. Her thoughts were jumping around too much, so she snuggled into his arms and wondered at this sudden change in her CO. No, it wasn't a sudden change. He'd been at her side in silent support for the past four years and it really shouldn’t come as a big surprise that he was fully committed to her in every possible way. The shock was more that he'd _said_ so. Directly. Normally he joked and danced around the truth, relying on her to fill in the blanks with veiled implications. She forced herself to remember that she'd spent the past year deliberately misinterpreting his words and lying to herself about their non-relationship. She hadn't allowed herself to think about the possibility of a future with this man because she hadn't allowed herself to think about _Jack_.

Should she be surprised that he had put more thought into their future than she had? After all, her job was to gather data, examine it and build models that would allow her to accurately guesstimate outcomes of future events. Jack’s job, on the other hand, was to strategize multiple plans of attack and quickly assess the risk involved as plans deviated. She trusted that he would focus on the big picture while she focused on the pertinent details and vice versa. When it came to their personal relationship, Sam had ignored what she deemed extraneous or inconsequential data that pointed to mutual affection, taking her lead from Jack and focusing on the job. Meanwhile, Jack had analyzed their situation from all angles before sticking with the low-risk path of ignoring those feelings, trusting that she would sort out the details and let him know if they needed to make a course correction. With both of them trusting the other to make the right call, neither questioned that they were backing themselves into a corner.

Rather than dwell on the knowledge that they would never have taken that first step without the coordinated shove from their friends, Sam allowed herself to be comforted by the realization that Jack had likely worried over the hundreds of ways this could end badly. While she may not have finished crunching the number, it was a relief to know that he already had and still found a way to trust that they were worth the risk.

Jack felt her relax against him and sighed in response, as though that was answer enough to his unspoken question.

Her mind settled, Sam felt ready to continue the conversation. "Are you saying you could turn your back on this now, but not after we have sex?"

Jack tensed, wanting to give her as honest an answer as possible. Sam stirred against him as he struggled to find the right words. "If you asked me to—gave me a good enough reason—I think I would try. It wouldn't be easy, but if you managed to convince me you didn't love me, or then... Maybe."

"’A good enough reason?’ Do you have something specific in mind?"

"… I can't think of one." He was silent for a little while longer, and Sam looked up to see his brow furrowed in thought. When he caught her looking he smirked. "Nope. I can't come up with anything that would change the way I feel about you. In hindsight, that might be a scarier answer," he noted with flash of panic. He hated having to express his feelings because for as long as he could remember, people simply took his words at face value. Hence the sarcasm. If people couldn't take him seriously, why should he make an effort to say anything meaningful?

Luckily, Sam knew him better than most people and had expected that answer. She'd spent the past few years sorting through the bull and subtext. Whatever he was trying to vocalize at this moment was very important to him, meaning that she needed to take a more direct approach. She propped her chin on his chest so he could see her face. "This isn't a fling for either of us. I would be lying if I said that I didn't see this going somewhere." He nodded in agreement. "But Jack, we've been fighting _against this_ for too long to think that the tension is under control. One of us is going to snap, and I think it will be easier to talk about it now than make excuses after it happens. Not that we need excuses, but I know we'll try and justify slipping up, even though it's what we both want. No, I know you're committed, but Jack, sex isn't marriage." She watched the subtle changes in his expression. It was a thrill for her to see him this way, to observe his thought process through the twitch of his mouth and dilation of his eyes. Normally he hid behind sarcasm or irritation and she counted herself among the few lucky enough to experience this side of him.

He was done hiding from her. "Maybe not for you, but after we have sex I'm not giving you up for anything. We don't need a ceremony or a signed piece of paper or anything that may come after that." The breath left her body and she felt trapped. There was something in the way he was looking at her. It wasn't new to her, though before now she hadn't been able to identify its meaning. It was almost like a glimpse into their future, and it only strengthened her resolve to trust his judgment in this area until she gave herself time to figure out what she wanted. "Don't think for a second that I'm not going to kick myself later for saying this, but we owe it to ourselves to hold off. I want to make love to you because I _love_ you. It wouldn't feel right to give in because the tension was too hard to fight, or because we need to convince each other that we're still alive and in one piece after a mission goes wrong."

"You're right. That's not who we are." _Damn it_ , she added to herself.

"We don't quit."

"No, we don't." She inched her way forward and kissed him, still unsure about what this meant for them in the here and now. They had established some boundaries, but there was still a lot of wiggle room. She felt herself smiling at just how much wiggle room there was. Something he said earlier sparked a thought and she pulled back. "Thank you for opening up like that."

"You mean my honesty wasn't enough to scare you away? I'll have to try harder next time."

Her eyes narrowed and Jack found himself frowning. "But you lied. Just a little, didn't you?" He took a deep breath, clearly offended and ready to defend himself. "Oh, please. You can't honestly expect me to believe that you, _sir_ , don't care if we live together in a trailer filled with cats."

A blush rose to his cheeks and he laughed. "Alright, maybe I exaggerated a bit." The look he gave her said it all: he wasn't going to push, but he fully planned on marrying her.

"That's what I thought."

"Everything else was true," he added before reclaiming her mouth. Damn, she was irresistible. His hands immediately went to her hips as she wiggled against him, making her hum against his lips. "Mmm, especially that part about me needing to change rooms."

"Still exaggerating," she whispered, straddling his thigh. "You were the one that said we had superhuman self-control."

His eyes rolled back in his head as she ran her hands over his chest. "I never said that, but I guess if you _really_ want me to stay…"

"… and protect me from pubescent aliens?"

He snatched her hand away from his waistline and kissed the palm. "If you don't behave yourself, it's me you're going to be fighting off."

"Is that a promise?"

“You should really come with a warning label, ya know?"

Coyly biting her bottom lip in a way she was learning drove Jack nuts, Sam toyed with the hem of her shirt. “Oh, I’ve got one. Want to see it?”

Later on, after they'd curled up in their respective sleeping bags, fully clothed and alone, Jack had trouble shutting his mind down for the night. He was glad they'd talked, but something Sam had said continued to bother him. Initially he tried to brush it off, but the more he thought about it, the more it bothered him. Wishing he had a cot set up, Jack tossed and turned through most of the night, developing some last-minute contingency plans.


End file.
